


One Year

by sleepylotus



Category: Pirates of the Caribbean (Movies), Pirates of the Caribbean: Dead Man's Chest (2006)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-30
Updated: 2017-07-03
Packaged: 2018-07-11 04:40:04
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 14
Words: 33,784
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7028974
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sleepylotus/pseuds/sleepylotus
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>For the prompt: "Because Jack would have sold his soul for a kiss." Set mid DMC on the way to Isle las Cruces, Captain Sparrow is on the hunt for a smooch, but strikes a fortuitous bargain with Elizabeth Swann instead. In exchange for sanctuary on the Pearl Elizabeth will postpone marrying the whelp for one year... Sparrabeth ensues. NOW COMPLETE!!</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. In The Beginning

This is my entry in the Sparrabeth “Why We Love Jack and Elizabeth” Challenge. (If you want to play, and please feel free! you can find the challenge on my Tumblr, I'm apirateslifeforme123 .  Based on #53: Because he would have given his soul for a kiss, for the lovely Colorblindly . Set mid DMC, this takes place on the supposition that it took a bit longer to reach Isle las Cruces. Heh.

 

#  One Year

 

A soul was not a tangible thing most people ever truly managed to commodify, but Jack Sparrow had, and he’d sold his for a _ship_.

 _The_ ship.

The _Pearl_. It seemed like a very fine trade at the time, and again when he regained her captaincy not so long ago.

That was, until _she_ stepped on board once more.

Just _looking_ at her made Jack feel as though some great invisible fist squeezed his heart. It was _uncomfortable,_ to say the least.

He wanted it to stop.

He reckoned a kiss would do the trick, _maybe,_ and he knew he would have sold his soul all over again just to get _one_.

And if his soul was worth a hundred _average_ souls, then how many _kisses_ could he finagle for such a trade? At least a hundred would be fair. Possibly a thousand? Maybe even…

But then, he didn’t have a soul to trade, so as usual it was up to him to turn _nothing_ into a great wealth of _something,_ with nigh but his wits and his highly developed skills at beguilement.

A kiss was the goal he had in mind when he approached her at the gunwale, reading those Letters of Marque. And again, upon the steps to the quarterdeck, and somehow he ended up offering mar-i-age instead.

One would think _she_ was the sheister bargaining against impossible odds! Yet even with that—in Jack’s opinion, rather covetable and generous—proposition upon the table, she rolled her eyes as though he’d proposed something indecent at a society ball. As though they weren’t on a fucking pirate ship, _thank you very much_ , and _she_ was dressed _quite_ improperly as a _boy_ , mind you… And though he’d said he preferred her in dresses those breeches really did become her long legs and shapely derriere—it was all rather maddening.

What was even _more_ maddening was the timing of the god damned black spot to re-appear on his hand, just as he was _about_ to receive the object of his most recent ardent desires!

Well, maybe not _so_ recent.

Recent enough to be sending his compass in a bloody tizzy for months.

Alright, _almost_ a year.

Bloody hell.

Jack fled to his cabin, in search of privacy, a new bandage, and he _really_ would feel better laying hands on that jar of dirt…

Standing at his desk, Jack went about wrapping a semi-fresh swatch of linen about his palm when the cabin door burst open, a rather flustered Elizabeth slamming it behind her. She leaned against the portal, as though she’d been pursued. By the eyes of the crew, perhaps, or just her own thoughts.

And though his conniving brain _sang_ with all the fresh opportunities _this_ presented, his mouth spouted rather acidly, as he was still smarting _a little_ from her earlier refusal, “You shouldn’t be in here alone, love. _Terrible_ for a lady’s reputation, you know.”

It was Elizabeth who laughed first at the idea, raking fingers through her tangled blond hair. She seemed flustered, her earlier sangfroid thawed just a hair. “A bit late for that, isn’t it? I have been a lady on my own for weeks now, and find myself unchaperoned upon a pirate ship. As if my imprisonment for aiding a pirate had not done the job already…I am _quite_ ruined.”

“Aye, perhaps. Blaming this on me, then?” There was a hint of sadness in his tone, the usual mirth dampened by the thought that she wished she’d let him hang instead.

But immediately she answered, “No. I regret nothing.”

Jack’s brows shot up into his bandana for the steadfast quality of her tone. “Indeed?”

Elizabeth sighed, crossing the floor to him. He’d been fumbling rather frustratedly with the knot of the bandage, and she took it from him, tying it neatly as a seasoned nurse.

Or a girl who has been practicing her knots on the sly, he thought with a glimmer of hope.

His arm trembled slightly when she did not let go of his hand immediately.

“I’m not the naïve young woman you think I am, Jack. Will thinks that we can go back. That this will blow over. Will thinks if you are good and brave and honest it can be enough…” She squeezed his hand tighter, closing her eyes as she thought of Will. Dear, sweet, naïve Will. “But I know— _we know—_ that sometimes they’ll hang you anyway, just to please the crowd. I don’t intend to give them the chance.”

Her use of the word _we_ did something curious to Jack’s insides.

She lifted her gaze to Jack’s then, and as their eyes met something like lightning struck within them. Of their own volition, Jack’s hands moved to pull Elizabeth closer, wanting her lips more than anything else in this world.

The compass had told him so, multiple times.

But Elizabeth stopped short, tilting back her head. “I have to find him, Jack.”

Jack’s stomach twisted _just a little._ He knew exactly where to find Will, didn’t he… Well, he didn’t intend to really leave the Whelp in Davy Jones’ tender care permanently…he was fairly certain.

“We will,” he assured her, hoping she would believe him, and he began nearing towards her again.

“And I want to make a deal. For the Letters.”

Ah. So she was still out to persuade him? Jack halted, peering down the length of his nose at her.

“I’m all ears, dearie.”

“Let me…let _us_ stay. On the Pearl. Let us join your crew. We’ll sign your manifest with false names and stay out of sight when we make berth in English ports. No one need ever hear from Elizabeth Swann and Will Turner again.”

A slow smile spread upon Jack’s full lips. Lips that had no business upon the face of a pirate, Elizabeth thought, then blushed as she realized she was looking at that most insouciant appendage.

Inside, the pirate rejoiced. _He had her in the bag now…_

Jack sighed, releasing Elizabeth, walking to look out the aft windows. She was surprised by how she _immediately_ missed him near her, clenching her fists to suppress the urge to reach out for him again.

“Not sure I fancy tripping over you _and_ the eunuch for an extended period of time...” he mused, tugging at his beard. When he peered back over his shoulder he was delighted to see an expression of utmost _shock_ upon Elizabeth’s features.

“Why not!?” she exclaimed, her earlier deference quickly replaced by outrage.

“Well…now _you,_ my dear. You could be invaluable.” Elizabeth’s expression darkened as she anticipated some unsavory appraisal of her womanly assets. But he surprised her as he said, “You’re whip-smart, handy with a weapon, and sneaky to boot. You, darlin’, are already a good pirate in the making. I’ve known that all along. Our dear Will, on the other hand…”

Elizabeth could hear the list ticking off in her own head.

_Will was good._

_Will was kind._

_Will was honest._

_Will would argue any scheme of Jack’s, if it did not suit his moral liking._

_Will could hardly tell the bow from the aft end of a ship._

“He is an excellent swordsman,” Elizabeth argued, and it was the _only_ thing she could think of that could recommend Will as a worthy crew-member on a pirate-turned-privateer vessel.

“Aye, he is an excellent swordsman,” said Jack with a sly smile. “So he’ll make dead weight until we get into a scrap, eh? The other crew won’t like sharing their rations with a bloke like that.”

“He’s strong. And he’s good at making repairs in metal or wood,” she argued further.

“I’ve already got a shipwright, love. _Hired_ him off a French merchant ship.”

“ _Forced_ , you mean.”

Jack shrugged. “He seems content enough to me.” _Monsieur LeBlanc certainly drank enough of their rum…_

Elizabeth had thought this would be an easy way to secure some sort of future for herself and her fiancé—not to mention getting to remain with Jack, which if she was _really_ honest—made her happier than she had been since the ordeal with the cursed Aztec gold…

He was _infectious,_ she mused. Like a disease, she tried to tell herself. Like…forbidden candy, more like. Like a favorite sweet. She found herself just wanting more and more and more. Just one more taste. Well, she’d very well almost gotten her taste earlier, hadn’t she?

_Dear Lord. She was playing with fire._

She didn’t mean to be unfaithful to Will.

She didn’t _want_ to have these impure thoughts.

She simply couldn’t _help_ herself, when Jack was around.

She could almost _hear_ the nails being hammered into her coffin, as she dared ask, “What would _persuade_ you, Captain Sparrow?”

He turned to her with a dark light shining in those obsidian eyes. Mischief, and… _oh dear._  A liquid warmth pooled deep in her belly, when he looked at her _that_ way _._

“One year, Miss Swann.”

“One year, _what?”_ she asked suspiciously.

“I will let you and Will stay on the Pearl and live the pirate life for as long as you like, if you will agree to delay your marriage to Will for _one year._ ”

Elizabeth’s lips parted, and she told herself it was with _surprise,_ and not _anticipation._

“Why?” she asked, though she already knew the answer.

“You know why.”

“Say it, or you’ll get _nothing_ from me,” she snapped, more annoyed by her own interest than Jack’s brazen demands.

Jack pursed his lips, an infuriating smirk pulling at the corner of them. “As you like. I wish the chance to _woo_ you, Lizzy.” He neared closer once more, the click of his boot heels upon the decking beating in time to her thundering heart. He gestured with a flourish of be-ringed fingers, “Didn’t really get my chance before, did I? With the skeletons and the navy and that nasty jail cell all getting in the way…”

Elizabeth rolled her eyes, but they fluttered closed as he reached out to caress her jaw, tilting her head towards him. “And, I should like to seal the deal with a _kiss_.”

“You are _insufferable._ ”

“One of my _many_ redeeming qualities.”

“You’re _mad._ ”

“As a hatter, love.”

He sounded closer. She knew he was leaning down to kiss her. He was doing it slowly, like a snake stalking its prey, giving her every chance to shove him away. She knew she should tell him to take his deal and shove it where the sun—presumably—never shone on Jack Sparrow. She should have fled the cabin. Should have cursed the day she ever _heard_ his name…

“Well? What say you?” he whispered, right above her lips, and she could not suppress a sigh of longing, her heart fluttering in her chest. Something deep inside chanted at her to stand on tiptoe and press her lips to his.

“You really mean to court me—in the close confines of a ship—right under Will’s nose?”

“True, it sounds like a nigh _impossible_ task, but I am Captain Jack Sparrow…”

Elizabeth chuckled rather wickedly. “I think Will would run you through within a month if you tried. He’s naïve, but not _stupid_.”

“I like a challenge.” Jack changed tactics. “I noticed you haven’t outright stated you would be _unreceptive_ to my overtures.”

She opened her eyes then, finding Jack impossibly close. She could see every detail of his coffee-colored eyes, the smudge of kohl about them that made him look so fierce, the fine lines at their corners that only at this range belied his true age.

God, but he was beautiful.

_It simply wasn’t fair._

She was frozen to the spot, torn between the urge to stay and the urge to run for her life.

The fact of the matter was, she had her doubts about she and Will Turner. Not of her love for him. No, loving a boy like Will was the easiest thing in the world. What she doubted was _herself._ What she doubted was that she _deserved_ a man like Will. She was not good, like he was. Nor, was she simple. She craved— _more_. It was something she only admitted in the deepest dark of night, after waking from a nightmare of confinement in a small cottage with three crying brats tugging on her skirts, the dishes piling up, supper burnt on the stove and laundry waiting to be done in a pile by the door…

Elizabeth craved _adventure._ She craved the salty breeze blowing through her hair, and the sway of the deck a ship beneath her feet. She craved the ring of her sword clashing with another, and the dark swell of triumph in beating an opponent because she was faster, better, _meaner…_

She feared it was exactly as Jack said. She was a pirate, and Will Turner was a saint. A more disastrous match could never be made, because she didn’t _want_ to be redeemed.

Before she knew it, Elizabeth lifted herself on tiptoe, pressing her lips to Jack Sparrow’s with gusto. The ardor behind her kiss almost took Jack aback.

_Almost._

His heart _sang_ as he wrapped his arms around her, pulling her close as he slanted his mouth over hers. He’d envisioned their first kiss as a tentative thing, a curious brush of lips, perhaps just a _little_ taste of tongue… But _this_ was an onslaught. _This_ was battle. _This_ was what they _were_ , he realized, and he groaned deep in his chest as Elizabeth opened her mouth to him, allowing him inside. A hand crept up to fist in her hair, tilting her head back to an almost painful angle as he pillaged her mouth, soft lips somehow simultaneously generous and punishing. She gripped the lapels of his jacket, holding him closer.

Finally they surfaced for air with a gasp, and Elizabeth trembled as she extricated herself from Jack’s arms, her knees turned to jelly. She didn’t know how she managed to walk, much less regain her posture, holding her head at that haughty angle that somehow both infuriated and thrilled Jack. She looked over her shoulder at the sufficiently flummoxed Captain Sparrow. In the most dignified tone she could muster, as though they were in her father’s drawing room and not the great cabin of the Black Pearl, she said, “You have one year, Captain Sparrow.”

Jack watched her exit the cabin on those long legs, closing the door gently behind her, with eyes wide as saucers, his breath coming too quickly. Immediately he collapsed back in his carved wood desk chair. Slowly, a satisfied smile spread wide upon his lips. Lips, that had just been on _her_ lips. He touched his mouth with wonder, rather in awe.

_One year._

More than enough time. Look at what he’d achieved in the span of one night and half a day!

His palm chose that moment to ache, and ruefully he looked to his bandaged hand, daring to peek under the linen.

The black spot persisted, and he sighed.

If he could just live through _this_ day, he amended, he would have the _best_ year of his life.


	2. One Month

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: So I decided to continue this after all, and I hope you all enjoy!

# Chapter 2: One Month

 

 

Jack, James, and Elizabeth traipsed down the beach of Isle las Cruces, and for a moment it seemed as though the compass might betray them once more, playing the same trick upon Elizabeth as it had Jack.

Jack _might_ have taken pleasure in that, had his need for that heart not been so very _dire._

_Alright, so he still enjoyed it. No time like the present, eh?_

Yet in the end they were able to pull the weathered box from the earth, and such _relief_ overtook the pirate captain that he grabbed Elizabeth up in his arms, spinning her around in his joy. She laughed and danced with him, enchanted by the feeling of his strong hands upon her waist. A pregnant moment passed between them, and there might have been another kiss had Will not chosen that exact time to walk up on the beach.

“Looks like I arrived just in time,” said the blacksmith, eyeing the pair suspiciously.

Elizabeth slipped from Jack’s grasp, flustered.

Embarrassed.

Caught _red_ _handed_.

“Will!”

Jack made a face as he watched the young lovers embrace, and Will met Jack’s eyes over the top of Elizabeth’s head. The pirate captain understood all too well.

A gauntlet was thrown down in the sand between them.

Jack tipped an imaginary hat to the whelp, as his chapeau had gone missing in the drink.

_May the best pirate win._

XXX

 

With Jones cowed and the Kraken called off its grisly duty, it felt as though the world was Jack’s oyster. What to _do_ with such great power at his fingertips?

It was a thing Jack pondered at length.

Handing it over to Beckett was certainly out of the question.

Bending Jones to do more of his own bidding smacked too much of pulling the Devil’s tail, even for him.

At the moment, Jack was content to keep the status quo.

Besides, he very nearly had everything he truly desired at his fingertips. The sea. The Pearl. Rum. And Elizabeth Swann, right under his nose.

It took some persuasion, but in the end Will had agreed to stay upon the Pearl with his bonny girl.

Of course, he immediately demanded that Jack free his father from his bonds upon the Dutchman.

But Jack found he still had a bit of a sore spot for ol’ Bootstrap’s involvement in the mutiny. Too little too late, as it were. And _besides._ He knew the Whelp would not stay without some incentive over his lady love fancying to play pirates for a little bit. The heart kept his quarry close, and his rival closer.

He put the whelp off with a promise of _later,_ and reluctantly Will bowed to the captain’s authority. However, Jack did not miss the defiant glint in Will’s eye, and knew the boy would pounce when he could.

Jack didn’t intend to give the boy a chance.

And so the crew of the Pearl was free to pursue that which they did best: chase booty.

Treasure, that is.

Though not all treasure is silver and gold…

 

XXX

 

Elizabeth was surprised to find a flower tucked in her hammock, her first week upon the Pearl. Immediately she knew from whom it had come—but where the devil did Jack Sparrow come up with a fresh posy at _sea_?

Yet upon closer inspection, she realized it was not a real flower, but a carefully folded facsimile made of brightly colored paper. Her heart skipped a beat as she admired the careful workmanship, imagining Jack hunched over the creation at his desk. _Making this for her._ What was this paper art called? She searched her memory. _Origami_?

She lifted the flower to her nose, sniffing it delicately. She wondered if it might smell of him, sea salt and masculine spice, but no. There was a very delicate floral scent wafting up from the paper. Lavender water, perhaps? It was the nicest thing she’d smelled in a while…

She knew this was silly.

_Utterly ridiculous._

Jack Sparrow, courting her?

What madness! Yet her treacherous mind could not help but wander to the forbidden kiss they’d shared in his cabin, and the feeling of his strong hands about her waist on the Isle las Cruces. The way his eyes _danced_ with joy—God he was beautiful. Had Will not arrived on the scene, she knew in her heart of black little hearts she would have kissed Captain Sparrow again.

But Will was here now, and she should leave such foolishness behind her. It was the right thing to do. Didn’t she have everything she’d ever wanted now? Freedom, the sea, _and_ her darling blacksmith at her side…

Despite all this, she could not help a secretive curl of lips as she tucked the delicate paper flower safely in her sea chest.

 

XXX

 

Life at sea agreed with Elizabeth.

The work was hard. There was no denying that.

She went to bed exhausted and sore every night, falling asleep with a smile. Every day she grew stronger, and learned more tasks. She was whip smart and quick on her feet, and despite Gibbs’ occasional grumblings about how it was bad luck to have a woman on board, no one could really find fault with the Governor’s daughter turned pirate upon the Pearl.

In fact, it was right nice to have the lass around. She was dependable, smart, and _funny_ , and it became a chief pleasure among the crew to listen to her trade affectionate insults with Captain Sparrow. Those well-aimed barbs clearly masked something _else,_ and that something _else_ ran _deep._ It was plain to see in her smile when she turned away, and the swagger in the Captain’s step when he returned to the helm after an exchange. Bets were placed as to how long it would be before she called off her engagement to poor Will all together, poor boy.

The only thing that continued to give Elizabeth trouble aboard the Pearl was her bloody _hair._ She tried to tame it in a queue or a braid, but little wisps kept whipping free and smacking her in the face, getting in her eyes. It was mildly infuriating. Her resources were limited, but she attempted to remedy the problem in the mess, where a sliver of a mirror was mounted upon the bulkhead. She’d scrounged a comb that had most of the teeth broken, and painstakingly she attempted to work the knots from her golden tresses.

Jack Sparrow spied Elizabeth wrestling with her considerable mane. The whelp was nowhere in sight, on watch up above. When she grumbled under her breath that _perhaps she might just cut it off_ a surprising pang assaulted his black little heart. He disappeared to his cabin, and returned not long after with a silver-backed brush and fully intact comb in hand. “Might I be of some assistance, milady?”

Elizabeth turned with an expression of surprise, and then suspicion, her eyes narrowing. “A dubious proposition, I would wager…”

Jack rolled his eyes and waved the brush emphatically. “Seems like ye need a hand with _all that_ , and ol’ Jack knows a thing or two about maintaining a _coiffure_.”

Elizabeth could not help but smile, _just a little._ “And just what kind of _help_ are you offering, Captain Sparrow?”

“Sit and find out, love,” he dared her, a glint in his midnight eyes as he gestured towards an empty bench. They were not entirely alone, Cotton still puttered in the galley, and some of the men sat at one of the tables across the room. She supposed Jack couldn’t compromise her honor _too_ badly in the relative public of the mess.

She took a seat.

When Jack took her tresses in hand, gently gathering it all at her nape she could not help but shiver a little with pleasure. In that moment she was grateful she could not see his expression; for surely he grinned with triumph? Mortified, she waited for the barrage of innuendo. But he said nothing to her detriment, and slowly she relaxed as he brushed out her hair, starting at the ends and working his way up through the tangles.

“And I had thought this was a service left long behind me in Port Royal,” she teased, closing her eyes as the boar’s hair brush slipped through her tresses. In truth, having her hair pampered was one of the few things she’d _liked_ about having a lady’s maid.

Jack sighed a little, biting down upon the quip about _services he could provide,_ enjoying this small intimacy far too much to forsake it just yet _._ Did she mean to bait him so? He could not see her face, and so it was hard to read her. But one thing was for certain. Elizabeth Swann was a _sensual_ creature. She arched like a cat when he ran his fingers through her newly tangle-free tresses, that now shone like a waterfall of spun gold between his fingers. He felt _dizzy_ as his mind ran circles with the possibilities this could serve later.

_Later._

This was a delicate dance he knew he engaged in with Miss Swann, and so he resigned himself to promises for _later._ He played the long game with this one. And so he would pretend to be a gentleman, when really all he wanted to do was fist that luxurious mass of golden hair and pull her back into a toe-curling kiss, the likes of which they had shared in his cabin earlier.

“We spotted a merchant ship upon the horizon,” he said, changing the subject as he began to braid her hair. He started on one side, devising to catch the shorter wisps that had been driving her mad. “Should catch up to her tomorrow. Are you ready?”

“ _Yes_ ,” said Elizabeth, excitement and trepidation in her tone. It would be her first prize, and though this was what being a pirate was all about, she still knew that numerable things could go wrong.

He tied off one braid halfway down her head, and began on the other side.

“We’ll try to take her peaceably. Our size and guns usually help _persuade_ the issue in our favor, but it’s possible they’ll play the fool and try to fight. So your sword is sharpened? Pistol cleaned? Tis in the articles, remember, that ye must keep your tools of the trade in good order.”

She smiled wide, and was somewhat grateful he couldn’t see the pure _joy_ in her expression. “Yes, _Captain_.”

He could hear it all in her voice though, and _God_ she was young, so filled with excitement, chomping at the bit for an adventure. A little bit of it rubbed off on him, and he too couldn’t help but grin in kind.

“Good.”

Last Jack made a braid that followed the crown of her head. Elizabeth sat very still, enjoying herself too much, utterly unable to put a stop to it. Perhaps it was wildly improper, but there was also an innocence in this gesture of Jack’s, and she could not help but savor it. Jack tied off the last braid with a strip of cloth, and then combined it all in one long fishbone plait down her spine.

“Need to find you some beads, love,” he decided, appraising his handiwork. “Then you’ll _really_ look like a proper pirate.”

Elizabeth chuckled at the thought. “Molding me in your own image, Jack?” She inclined her head so that she could finally see his expression, and she was not prepared for the tenderness in his dark eyes, which he immediately sought to mask when her gaze fell upon him.

“You’re the one who _begged_ to stay on a pirate ship, darlin’,” he teased with a smile that glinted gold in the low light. “When in Rome…”

“I did not _beg_ ,” she huffed. “I _bargained._ They are two _entirely_ different things.”

“Ah yes. Though both certainly stem from the same desire…”  A ringed finger extended to caress the line of her jaw, and once more Elizabeth’s eyes slipped closed.

Was an infamous pirate _allowed_ to be so gentle with a lady? It seemed _absurd,_ and yet here she was, utterly enchanted by Jack Sparrow, even with her fiancé just a deck above them. God help her, but she was a _wicked_ thing. She knew it to the very marrow of her bones…

“Ah. I almost forgot.” Elizabeth’s eyes shot open, her cheeks instantly burning with embarrassment for how _easily_ he’d managed to slip past her guard. With the finesse of a conjurer Jack produced a black bandana from a pocket, a square of fabric shot through with gold threads and paisley embroidery. He folded it deftly, placing it just so and tying it off at the base of her neck. “There now. I dare say you’re ready.”

Elizabeth’s eyes widened as her fingers explored the handkerchief, her now rough fingertips catching in the fine weaving. _Silk._ “I fear this is too fine a gift to accept, Jack.”

He liked it when she called him Captain, but he decided he loved the sound of his given name upon her lips even more. “Nonsense. Keep it, love. Wear it _proudly._ ” Elizabeth’s lips pursed, a retort dying upon the tip of her tongue as she dared meet his eyes once more.

Something surged in her heart, an urge that was fiery and delicious, a thing she barely managed to contain within herself by balling her fists in her lap. _She wanted to kiss him again._ As though he knew very well Jack inched closer, moving slowly so as not to spook her. A few crew members looked on from the corner, but all was forgotten in this newly created universe that consisted of just the two of them.

“Elizabeth?”

Will’s voice broke the spell, and Elizabeth turned to her fiancé with a gasp, fearing her guilt was written plainly in her eyes. “Will?”

The blacksmith looked suspiciously to Jack, his eyes narrowed. The pirate looked rather sinister in the lamplight of the mess, all sharp angles and black lines, but his fiancée had been looking upon him as though he were an angel made of gold. He didn’t understand the hold Jack seemed to have upon her, except that it seemed _all_ women had a weakness for Jack Sparrow. Until that moment, Will had never suspected Elizabeth, the most headstrong woman he knew, of any more than a friendly affection for the wily sea captain. Now? He wasn’t so sure.

“My watch just ended. Would you care to come on deck with me?”

 _No,_ was her immediate thought, but she bit down upon it before it could escape her lips. “Of course.”

She extricated herself from the bench, nodding to Jack. “Thank you, Captain Sparrow.”

He held his hands wide in a semblance of a bow, albeit a tad mocking. “Always at your service, Miss Swann.”

Will didn’t like the sound of that _one bit,_ and he took Elizabeth’s hand to lead her topside.

Jack watched them go, a small smirk pulling the corner of his mouth. She _would_ come over to his side. In time, she wouldn’t be able to _resist._

 


	3. Two Months

# Chapter 3: Two Months

 

Despite the arrival of Cutler Beckett, hunting was still good in the Caribbean, and the Pearl made berth in Nassau with her hold heavy with plunder to trade. Elizabeth chomped at the bit to experience the pirate town of Nassau, her body singing with excitement to go ashore. The men spoke of the pleasures that awaited: drinking, singing, dancing, good food, games of chance, and of course company of the softer variety. Elizabeth was interested in at least four of the five.

Will was less than enthusiastic about taking shore leave, and only begrudgingly agreed to go into Nassau with Elizabeth. “Cheer up, lad,” said Jack, stepping up between the two of them, clapping the boy upon the back. “Is the prospect of a hot meal and a little merriment so very dour?” They had been down to the last of their rations aboard the Pearl before making port, their fare the last few days consisting of a questionable gruel made of ingredients Elizabeth did not care to know.

“It’s the merriment part that scares me,” said Will sourly, regarding the captain with suspicion. Did the blackguard have to _oogle_ his fiancée so openly at every turn? Did _she_ have to look upon the pirate with such _blatant_ admiration?

It was true, that Elizabeth thought Jack looked rather handsome, bedecked as he was in hat and coat and all manner of belts, pistol, and sword, prepared for anything in the dangerous but delightful town that was Nassau. There was a gleam in his eye that drew her in like a moth towards the flame—she wanted to experience the excitement and adventure with him, to see it all through Jack’s eyes.

Well, maybe not _all,_ she thought, and a strange curl of something black turned her belly when she realized undoubtedly their captain would seek other female company ashore. Quickly she looked away, unwilling to admit she was _jealous_ of the thought of anyone else laying hands upon _her_ Captain Jack Sparrow.

She was _engaged,_ she told herself. _She loved Will._

She told herself that every day, and every day the conviction in those words seemed weaker and weaker. It wasn’t as though she _wanted_ this to happen! She just…didn’t know how to stop it.

“Well then. You two better stick with ol’ Jack, eh? Would hate to lose my newest crew members in their first trip to Nassau.” His smile glinted gold, holding so much promise. Elizabeth wanted _everything_ in that smile, and Will wanted _nothing_ to do with it.

 

XXX

 

The Painted Mermaid was raucous with merriment, and almost immediately upon entering the tavern the pirates had to duck lest be struck by a thrown flagon of ale. “It’s going to be a good night!” Jack declared with a chuckle, and waded through the crowd to an empty table. Elizabeth watched the proceedings with fascination, her eyes wide as she looked around.

All manners of folk milled around, every color of pirate, scallywag, and sea-scamp, as well as barmaids, musicians, and ladies of the evening. One bloke caught her eye at the bar, mostly because of the flaming scarlet color of his coat. Immediately she knew envy for it.

“Who is _that_?” she asked as she took a seat next to Jack.

The captain scanned the crowd, following her gaze across the room. When he realized to whom she referred his lips split in a gold-glinting grin. “Why that’s Calico Jack Rackham, love. Dandy caught your eye, has he?” he teased, unable to resist the barb at Will. Perhaps the whelp would give _that_ Jack the business end of his sword tonight, and leave his own humble person intact. The boy had a look about him like he intended to fight someone or something, and _soon._

“I like his coat!” she chortled, elbowing Jack with a familiarity that did not escape the whelp.

They ordered steaming trenchers of stew and rum all around. Elizabeth marveled at how quickly she had adjusted to humble fare, the sumptuous dishes of the Governor’s mansion a distant dream. The stew was _heavenly,_ thick and meaty, and she wanted nothing more.

Well, maybe a little rum.

And then she wanted a little _more_ rum.

In fact, with every drink the world seemed so much more bright and beautiful, and funny too! Everything was so bloody _funny._ Her lips moved like lightning as she talked, and she wondered if this was why Jack was so eternally _loquacious_.

_Lo—la---qua---sssssssssss._

She couldn’t quite wrap her lips around that word at the moment, though her thoughts moved at forty knots!

Wasn’t that _funny?_

Jack watched Elizabeth descend into what was probably only her second encounter with true drunkenness (both at his behest, imagine that?) with great amusement. Will, however, did not seem to think it cute _or_ funny, and he certainly seemed to blame Jack.

“Come along, Elizabeth. You’ve had quite enough. We’re going back to the ship.”

Elizabeth pouted, heartbroken that Will would put an end to the fun. “Already? The night is so young! I want to stay! I want to dance! Dance with me, Will.”

Shaking his head, Will took her arm, pulling her up from her seat. She wasn’t so sauced she couldn’t stand, and she certainly _could_ have fought him. But the look in his eyes hurt her, and she hoped that perhaps if she gave in he would be happy.

She was happy all the time now, but Will just seemed more and more miserable…

So she followed Will out with a backward glance at Jack. The blackguard lifted her spirits a little, rolling his eyes at the whelp and blowing her a kiss. _Next time,_ he seemed to tell her, and with a sigh she hoped he was right.

 

XXX

 

The next day Elizabeth woke in her hammock with a pounding headache.

What had she done last night?

She remembered eating and drinking at the Mermaid, telling funny stories with Gibbs and Jack. Will had put a stop to the fun, and _then_ …

She blushed.

She remembered trying to seduce Will, and failing miserably at it too. He’d told her he would not compromise her virtue, despite his body’s seeming disagreement with the sentiment. She remembered feeling that telltale hardness against her hip as she’d kissed him, and wanting to touch it… Will had grabbed her hands, and forcibly put her in her hammock, his eyes bright and his breathing ragged.

The memory made her miserably sad on the morn, and she sighed.

Did he not _want_ her anymore?

She realized something lay draped over her supine form in the hammock. Had Will felt badly for the way he’d treated her, and covered her with a blanket as she slept?

Elizabeth examined the article, enamored of the velvety texture beneath her hands.

She realized it was a very finely cut, very _red_ , coat.

 


	4. Three Months

# Chapter 4: Three Months

 

Calico Jack Rackham’s famed red coat was beautiful but a bit too big for Elizabeth. So every night she commandeered an empty table in the mess, working on altering the garment by candlelight.

When at last she completed trimming down the shoulders and the waist, she very _badly_ wanted to see the full effect of the garment upon her person. So when she knew Jack was on watch she slipped into his cabin, intent on borrowing the use of the fabled full-length mirror, an object of _untold_ value in these wild parts.

Quiet as a mouse, she lit a lantern upon the desk. She could not stop herself from taking a look around, fascinated by the dragon’s horde that was Jack’s cabin, filled to the gills with various treasures and oddities from all around the world. There were fabrics and carvings, and trinkets made of beaten gold. One such curio caught her eye, and she blushed as she realized it was a primitive but graphic depiction of a union between man and woman. Only Jack would display something so obscene openly…She couldn’t help herself. She looked again.

Knowing she trespassed, she shook herself from the spell and went to stand before the mirror, admiring her handiwork.

The woman who looked back at her rather took her aback. Her skin was now brown as a nut, and her hair bleached light blond by the sun. She’d become stronger, leaner, her cheekbones in high relief. She looked _hungry,_ but her eyes were bright. She gave herself a menacing stare in the mirror, then broke into a grin.

“A fearsome pirate you make, love,” said a voice right behind her.

Elizabeth gasped, whirling to find Jack standing behind her. “Oh! Jack! I was just…”

By his sly grin she could tell he wasn’t angry she was in his cabin, but she still might be in trouble...

“Just admiring the goods?” he offered. She frowned, a retort ready to fire on her tongue, until he reached out to pluck at the sleeve of the red velvet coat. “Suits ye rather well, Lizzy. Let’s have the full effect, eh?” He deftly took her hand, leading her in a spin that fanned out her coattails like a flower blooming beneath the gaze of the morning sun. The unexpected twirl made her dizzy, but Jack was sure to catch her with an arm about her waist.

“Jack…” Her protest came as more of a sigh, her hands upon his chest, and that wicked smile only widened.

“Lizzy?”

“How _did_ you get this coat from Rackham?”

“Won it fair and square in a game of cards, if you would believe it. Rackham ran himself dry, but as my lady professed a fancy for the fabled red coat, I so generously let him put it in the pot…”

Elizabeth fixed him with a look of disbelief. “And how many aces did you have up your sleeve?”

“Only needed the one…”

Elizabeth tried to hold it in, but in the end she could not help but laugh. “Oh, Jack. You cheated at cards for me?”

“A trifle on the list of crimes I would commit for you, darlin’.”

“And what if…I wanted you to be a good man?”

Jack’s face fell, his eyes averting. “That might be a taller order than what I can deliver, love.”

Elizabeth, however, would not be sidestepped. She turned his gaze back to hers with a hand on his cheek. “I think I know otherwise.”

Jack’s lips parted, caught off guard by the intimacy of the moment. When he was playing the Trickster it was all well and good, but when she fixed him with _that look –_ he feared she could see straight through to his soul, and it was a terrifying prospect at best.

“I wouldn’t get your hopes up on that score, darlin’.”

He released her then, and instantly she felt cold for the loss of his arms around her. She hugged herself, watching him cross the cabin on long legs, uncorking a bottle of rum and taking a hearty swig.

“You have been a good man,” she insisted, intent to prove that she wasn’t a little girl filled with silly fancies. “When I lost everything you gave me shelter. You have fed me, clothed me. You have been…” Only then did she realize how dangerous it was to list the points of Jack Sparrow’s generosity. Even more than Will, he had become her protector and provider, much like a father, or a…husband. He watched her flush as the realization dawned on her.

Determined to cling to his image as a scallywag, Jack took another draught of rum. “Ah, but who’s to say there won’t be a price in the end, hmm? You can’t really believe a pirate’s motives would be so driven by altruism.”

“You wouldn’t make demands of me.”

“Haven’t I already?”

“Nothing _terribly_ indecent.”

Jack chuckled, amused by her insistence to cling to her perception of him. He wanted her, but best she _not_ think him better than he was. It would only hurt her—or him— in the end.

A dark light shone in his eyes as he crossed the room to her again, and this time Elizabeth backpedaled, her heart suddenly pounding in her chest. With the chart table between them Jack leaned on the back of his chair, enjoying this game of cat and mouse once more. “Bargaining that you delay your impending nuptials was not an indecent demand? And I thought I was being utterly dastardly. Unless, of course, it was something you already wished to pass...”

A flush of embarrassment colored her cheeks, and Jack watched as her reaction confirmed the truth of the matter. “I…”

“Ah.”

An infuriating smirk curled his shapely lips, and in that moment she very badly wanted to smack it, her long fingers flexing in a fist. What did Jack Sparrow presume to know of her personal affairs?

Too much, it seemed.

More than even she herself, perhaps.

Frustrated, confused, _embarrassed,_ Elizabeth turned on her heel to flee. She was almost to the door when a hand clamped upon her arm, pulling her back.

“I’ll scream,” she threatened, winning a roll of eyes from her captain.

“Please spare me the ringing ears. You know I won’t hurt you.”

“Oh? Were you not just arguing that you in fact are _not_ a good man?”

“Well…to a point.”

“Ha!”

“Ha?”

Elizabeth drove a finger into his chest, triumph shining in her eyes. “You think you know so much about me, Jack Sparrow. Well, I see you too. Know _that._ ”

Jack narrowed his eyes, not sure that he liked where this was going. “Then perhaps a truce is in order, eh dearie?”

She sighed. “Perhaps it is.”

“Good. Now, when I found you in here I’m fairly certain you were having a fine ol’ time playing dress-up. Let’s continue in _that_ vein, shall we?”

“What do you mean?”

“You’re missing a few things a fierce pirate lass needs, me thinks.”

“Like what?” she asked cautiously, though she let Jack lead her back to the throne of a chair at his chart table. She sat, and watched him rifle in a drawer across the cabin.

“Ah. Here we are. Close your eyes.”

“I think not.”

He pouted, holding something behind his back. “Oh come now. You said I was a good man?”

Elizabeth felt dizzy with frustration. “Well are you or aren’t you?”

His smile gleamed gold. “Yes.”

“Jack! I swear upon all that is—”

He quieted her with a finger upon her lips, and as he traced their plump outline her eyes slipped closed of their own accord, a sigh escaping her. “Hold fast, love. Don’t move.”

Then she felt a gentle sweep of pressure upon her eyelids, and realized what he meant to do. When he finished he led her back to the mirror, inspecting his handiwork from behind her. Outlined in kohl, her eyes seemed impossibly large, yet somehow also forbidding.

She liked it.

“Will’s going to say I look like a tart.”

“If he does I’ll have him keel-hauled.”

Elizabeth pressed her lips, trying not to smile. The thought was horrible of course, but she found humor in it only because she knew Jack wouldn’t.

Jack scrutinized her reflection, searching for _something_. “Ah! I know.” He disappeared again, rifling in drawers and various chests. He returned with a gold earring, which he expertly threaded through her left ear. Next he wound a red sash about her waist, and she gasped as his hands brushed her body through the thin barrier of her clothes. But she did not pull away, and she knew she was as accountable for these shenanigans as he was. Guilt roiled in her belly, but was soon quashed again as Jack stepped back to inspect his handiwork. “There now. I daresay that red is your color, love. Add a pistol and a sword, and you’ll appear the fiercest pirate in the Spanish Main.”

She assessed herself quietly, taking it all in with fascination. “Are you proud of what you’ve made of me, Jack?”

Jack pressed long fingers to his chest. “What _I’ve_ made of you? Oh no, Lizzy. Tis fate that has forged your _becoming,_ not _my_ humble hand. I dare say you were _born_ for this.”

She rolled her eyes for the declaration. “ _Indeed_.”

“Though, if you are pleased I might take a _little_ credit,” he admitted, fingering his chin thoughtfully.

Elizabeth laughed, turning in his arms. Mischief glinted in his eyes as he tucked a stray lock behind her ear. “You do know the most important question in all this, don’t you?”

“What’s that?”

“Are you _happy_ here?”

Elizabeth froze. It seemed the most damning question he could ask in that moment, because the answer was _yes._ The answer was _more than she’d ever been in her entire life,_ and she knew guilt for that. It felt as though she’d betrayed Will, with her happiness alone. All their plans had been thrown awry, yet somehow she had emerged from the ashes not only _alive,_ but exceedingly _well._

Rather than answer, she hid her face against Jack’s chest. She knew if she looked upon his face one more second she would tell him everything, and she _couldn’t._

“Ask me later,” she sighed, and as though he understood all too well, Jack did not press her.

“Alright, love.”

He stroked her hair, and in that moment she knew, no matter what Jack insisted, he was a good man.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/n: Thank you for reading, and your comments are ever so appreciated! They make my day!!


	5. Four Months

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A little bird told me that I needed to continue this. ;)

# Chapter 5: Four Months

 

“Are ye up to it, Lizzy me girl?”

Elizabeth stood on the deck, looking up with awe to the maintop, the rigging stretching down from that towering height like giant spider webs of twisted cordage. It made her a bit dizzy, looking up to those heights, but it was her first shift on watch duty and she wanted to prove herself.

“I’ve just never climbed that high before,” she admitted. “But I will do it.”

Jack respected her very much in that moment; most would have given a trepidacious _I will try_ which was not the same thing.

“I’ll go with you. What say you to that?”

She nodded with a small smile, trying not to appear too eager, or too pleased. She feared she failed on both counts. He did not need to, but nevertheless Jack helped her up onto the gunwale where she could access the base of the ratlines, and she found she was ever so reluctant to release her grip from his strong sun-browned hand. But of course, she _needed_ two hands for this, and so she did reluctantly, her fingers sliding over his.

Jack’s returning smile was knowing, though not lecherous. Though he was greatly enjoying this game, this cat and mouse courtship going on right under William’s nose, every day that passed left him wound a little tighter inside, like a spring in a watch turned too many times. Though he invariably kept his cool, he felt time in a different way now, and this challenge was beginning to feel _urgent_ to Captain Sparrow. Perhaps he’d expected her to give in by now, but the stakes seemed to rise with every passing hour.

At first Jack went slow up the rigging, showing Lizzy how best to make her way up. “Always keep one hand for the ship and one hand for yourself, eh Lizzy? Ye won’t ever fall that way.” The thought made his stomach flip uneasily; he’d seen men smashed to bits on the deck from a bad fall from up in the shrouds.

“Aye, _Captain_.” She said it sweetly today, and the sugar in her tone left Jack restless as ever.

Soon, she outstripped him on the ratlines, and their trip up soon became a race. Elizabeth won; and even though Jack _may_ have let her do so, it was worth it for the cheeky grin she paid him, her smile bright as the sun above.

“Use the lubber’s hole,” he directed, nodding to the opening in the bottom of the crow’s nest.

Elizabeth wrinkled her nose. “That sounds rather unsavory.”

Jack cackled, and scrambled up the rope ladder on the side of the crow’s nest. “Come on then, use the futtock shrouds like a proper sailor.” With a smile like a baring of teeth she answered his challenge, following nimbly over the edge. Seated securely in the crow’s nest, she gasped at the sight from this high up. The sea glittered around them in shades of sapphire and aquamarine. In the distance dolphins jumped from the water, and she laughed with delight at their antics.

Without even thinking, her hand found his once more, squeezing his fingers. “Oh Jack. What a _view_.”

“Aye, tis a marvel.” Out the corner of her eye she noticed he was not looking out at the sea, but directly at _her._ She rolled her eyes at the flirtatious pirate captain, though her cheeks betrayed all when they colored with a rosy blush.

“Such flattery, Captain Sparrow. It won’t work.”

“Once again, I am simply practicing honesty, only to be disbelieved.” His thumb played gently over her knuckles, and she knew that she should draw away if she hoped to keep a shred of her sanity.

She could _feel_ his gaze upon her, the weight of those dark eyes sending a shiver marching across her arms and down her spine. Biting her lip, she dared turn towards him. “You shouldn’t distract me, Jack. I am supposed to be on the lookout.”

Jack made a pained sound deep in his throat, his full lips twisted in a smirk, and leaned back against the mainmast. “Very well, love. Look away. Find us a nice fat prize ripe for the taking.”

Slowly she slid her hand from his once more, and immediately felt the absence of his touch. She sighed, but nodded, and turned her attention back to the sea. “I shall be sad to relinquish my shift here, I think.”

“Just wait until you’ve been up here four hours straight. The glare wears on ye. Or when the wind is up, or during a storm…”

But today the weather was fair, and Elizabeth reckoned it would take longer than that to tire of it.

They sat in a comfortable silence for a time, until she became aware of a sound like a blade chipping wood. She turned to see Jack with his dagger drawn, carving something into the main mast.

“Defacing your own ship?” she asked, craning her neck to see what exactly he was creating.

“Hardly,” he answered with a flash of gold teeth.

“What is it?”

“Aren’t you on lookout duty?” He waved his fingers dismissively in a gesture of _get back to work,_ his rings flashing in the sunlight.

She narrowed her eyes, and with a huff turned back to the sea again. But the methodical scratching of his blade into the Pearl ruined the peace of the moment. “You’re doing this on purpose,” she sniped, winning a small laugh.

“Doing _what_ , love?”

“ _Annoying_ me.”

She glanced over her shoulder to see his lower lip distended in a playful pout. “That’s not a nice thing to say to your Captain.”

“Well?”

He regarded his handiwork with one eye closed, making a show of taking measurement with his thumb before chipping out just a little more.

“What _is_ it?” she demanded again, leaning over farther in an attempt to see around him. But Jack simply leaned too, thwarting her view with an infuriating grin. He put away his dagger, finished with his masterpiece, and enjoying Elizabeth’s narrowed-eye glare _far_ too much. He sat himself firmly in front of the carving, legs crossed and back against the mast.

“Ocean’s that way, love,” he teased her, pointing out towards the sea.

Next she tried to push him aside, just enough so that she could see behind him. It was as though he was made of iron, his body not giving an inch to her efforts. She tried bracing her feet on the side of the bucket and pushing against him that way—only to find herself snatched up, _into his lap._

“Jack!”

“This ain’t exactly the best place to be horsing around, Lizzy.” She tried not to let herself be distracted by his arms around her, holding her close to his body, strong and steady. Somehow she simultaneously felt perfectly safe—and perfectly at his mercy.

“Then perhaps you should not tease a lady with secret scribings into your ship,” she fired back, doing her best to sound indignant when really she felt herself melting inside.

He reached up to brush a stray lock of golden hair from her brow, and she could not help closing her eyes, just for a moment. “Now where’s the fun in that?”

With a huff she pounded her fist on his chest. Not hard, but _my_ was he solid beneath his shirt. Years and years of life at sea, she supposed, and maybe…the gods took some extra care with the clay when they formed Jack Sparrow. He seemed a confection formed for the very purpose of temptation. Surely she was not alone in this weakness for him?

She realized she was biting her lip, looking down at the brown triangle of flesh bared at his open collar. Mortified, her gaze flew up to his face once more. She expected to find him smugly smirking at her, but no. Surprisingly, he appeared… _content_ , and that made her heart race as surely as any dark and knowing look might have.

Still, a hot blush rushed over her cheeks and ears, and there was no hiding it on a bright day like this. Slowly he lifted a hand to cup the side of her face, savoring the warmth under his fingers. “S’alright, love,” he said gently. “I like it when you look at me.” His fingers slid into her hair at the back of her skull and she sighed, arching like a cat beneath his touch.

_What did she think she was doing?_

Somehow, she couldn’t bring herself to put a stop to this. Not yet. Not when Will was so _cranky_ these days that it was easy, _so easy,_ to forget they were even engaged.

“I suppose you’re quite used to women ogling you…” she attempted to make light of it.

Jack lifted one shoulder in a shrug. Certainly it was true. Women and men alike—he’d always been pretty, and though he often used it to his advantage, sometimes it won him attention he could have gladly gone without.

“Mayhap,” he admitted, his touch sliding down the long length of her throat. “Doesn’t make it less, when it’s you lookin’.”

She wondered if she would regret her next words, but they fell from her lips anyway. “You _are_ special, Jack.”

For a moment, just a moment, Jack allowed himself to savor this, closing his eyes as though she’d caressed him, before that trickster’s glitter returned to his dark orbs once more. “Special _and_ a good man? Lizzy darlin’ what have you been smoking while no one’s looking?”

She narrowed her eyes at his attempt at evasion, annoyed that he would brush off her compliment. “Scoff all you want, Captain Sparrow. I remain convinced of my assessment.”

He couldn’t help it. His lips twisted in a grin. “Then it sounds like its high time I do something roguish again to salvage my reputation.”

“Ha!” she scoffed, and yet when his arms closed around her once more her heart leapt into her throat, her fingers curling in the linen of his shirt.

“Perhaps it’s time to negotiate another trade, hmm?”

“A trade for what?” she asked cautiously.

“Well, you want to see my little draw-er-ring on the mast, and I…” His gaze travelled down to her mouth, before lifting again. “I think I would fancy another kiss, Miss Swann.”

Again, she found herself biting her lip, imagining his own lips and teeth upon her mouth. “I think you’ve just proved my point,” she dared utter, endlessly perplexed as to why she must pull the tail of this tiger.

 _Because you want to be devoured_ a little voice sang out over the clatter in her head. Doggedly she ignored this voice, daring to take another step deeper into the jungle.

“Because if you were a _true_ rogue you would just take your kiss...and give nothing back.”

A low growl emitted from deep in his chest, sending gooseflesh marching across her arms. He pinched her chin between his rough fingers, not hard enough to hurt, but firm. Enough so that she could feel the strength in his hands, feel that he could pull her to pieces if he wanted to.

She wasn’t afraid.

“I’m beginning to think you would like that, Lizzy,” he said, just over her mouth. “If I just took you, why—you would have _all_ the pleasure, and _none_ of the blame.”

“My, that _would_ be devious,” she whispered back with a cheeky grin. “Too bad I accept the terms of your proposed trade, then.” He made another sound in his throat, this one almost of _pain._ She expected him to fall on her, to kiss her hungrily as he had that first time in his cabin, to claim her mouth in a punishing kiss for being a saucy wench who drove him _mad_.

He was _gentle_ , his full lips lightly pressing against hers. Only after a few long moments of this did he open his mouth to her, caressing her lightly with his tongue, his hand in her hair sending shivers across her body. Her hand fisted in the linen of his shirt, pulling him closer, wanting _more._

It was Jack who pulled back first, leaving her breathless, heavy-lidded, _hungry._ Only the rapid rise and fall of his chest betrayed his own excitement, and perhaps his hand upon her waist, his grip just _this_ side of too hard.

She didn’t mind.

“You know, love, you don’t _have_ to wait the full year, if you’ve made up your mind now. We can drop Will off at the next port, easy as pie.”

Shakily, she laughed, though she felt no humor in it. “I can’t say I have made up my mind just _yet_ ,” she answered, feeling that perhaps she was telling a lie. This was just supposed to be a bit of _fun,_ she’d told herself. A grand adventure, before she and Will disappeared from the law, somewhere in the colonies with new names and a nest egg from pirating to make a new life.

It felt more and more like a distant dream every day.

Jack paid her a sideways smile, yet there was an edge in his gaze in that moment that betrayed he neither believed her nor would he let her off so easily.

“Then the game is on.” He kissed her forehead, and carefully disentangled himself from her. She watched as he disappeared over the side of the crow’s nest with nary a look back, a bit puzzled, and a bit… _bothered,_ to say the least.

Had Jack just _fled_ from her?

Immediately her attention turned to the mast, ravenously curious to behold her prize. What met her eyes caused Elizabeth to gasp, her fingers tracing the carved letters reverently. _JS + ES,_ plain as day for anyone who climbed up there to see. It made her heart flutter in her chest. For if she’d had any doubts, any suspicions that she was just a game to Jack Sparrow, something to be toyed with and discarded once the novelty wore off… _well._ He loved nothing more than this ship, and he’d tattooed her initials beside his in the Pearl’s own flesh.

Immediately she leaned over the side of the crow’s nest, Jack’s name on her tongue. But he was already jumping down onto the deck, and if she shouted after him the _whole_ ship would hear. As though he sensed her gaze the pirate captain looked up at her, shielding his eyes against the blazing sun. From so high up she could just make out his smile, gold teeth glinting.

Speechless, the only thing she could think to do was wave down at him. In return he blew her a kiss, before stalking off to do something _captainy._

A part of her hoped the whole ship, including Will, had seen.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading and your comments!! You never fail to make my day!


	6. Five Months

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lessons in shooting, and unexpected revelations.

# Chapter 6: Five Months

Elizabeth decided that pirate James Norrington was _infinitely_ more interesting than Commodore James Norrington. _Pirate_ James Norrington was scathingly funny, roguishly handsome, and best of all: he was teaching her to shoot.

She’d had plenty of experience with swords after pestering Will for lessons, but firearms were something she did not have as much experience with as she _should_ if she hoped to excel as a proper pirate.

“It will serve you well to become a crack shot, Elizabeth, should you insist on carrying on in this line of work. Firearms are the great equalizer of men—and women, God help us all.” The last was delivered with a small half smile she was coming to know well from James, and she took no offence.

Will glowered from the sidelines, annoyed but unable to contribute anything of worth to this lesson. He too was rather deficient in the area of things that go _bang_ , but he would rather _die_ than take a lesson from James Norrington.

James finished loading the gun, adding powder, patch, and ball, and handed it to Elizabeth. She took aim at a coconut resting on top of a barrel, trying to take into account the wind and the swaying of the ship. She fired, and when the cloud of bitter smoke cleared she beheld that she’d missed, _again_.

The whelp was not the only one on the ship who was displeased by Elizabeth’s choice of tutor. “No, no, NO, you’re doing it all wrong!” exclaimed Jack, _finally_ unable to resist descending from the quarterdeck to interrupt.

“I’m sorry if my _twenty years_ in the King’s Navy were not adequate in qualifying me as an instructor in _firearms_?” quipped James, clearly annoyed for the interruption. The only reason he was on this bloody ship was Elizabeth Swann, trusting neither the boy nor the pirate to see to her well-being properly after she pulled him from the mud on Tortuga, and he did enjoy the rare moments he was able to share her company. After everything that had happened, he still could not shake his feelings for the lady turned pirate beside him.

As Jack swaggered up, his boot heels striking the deck, James paid his nemesis turned captain a sideways look. “Word on Tortuga is that you were in the _merchant_ service, _Captain_ Sparrow, before becoming a pirate?”

The word _Captain_ was heavily laden with something not quite respectful, but Jack did not acknowledge James’ inquiry, shooting the former-Commodore a dirty look as he sauntered up. With quick thief’s fingers he snatched the pistol from Lizzy.

“Hey!”

Jack weighed it in his hand, frowned, and slung an arm about Lizzy’s shoulders. “Clearly this is an ill fit for ye, Lizzy girl. Don’t know what we were thinking. Come on, we’ll get you fixed up _proper_.” The last was punctuated with a smarmy look in the former Commodore’s direction.

She followed, or rather, was pulled as Jack turned on his heel and started off for his cabin.

Though they had a good start on him, Will was not far behind. But Jack could not help but play with fire when they entered his cabin, pulling Lizzy into a quick lock of lips that made her moan into his mouth. She could have forgotten herself _so easily,_ and because of it she made herself jerk away. “Are you mad?” she hissed, smacking his arm.

Jack paid her a gold-glinting smile that was as good as a yes, and dove into one of his sea chests on the floor.

By the time the incensed blacksmith made it to the doorway of the great cabin of the Pearl Jack was already bent over and tossing things over his shoulder in search of what would presumably be a better pistol for Elizabeth. She stood by watching with equal parts fascination and trepidation.

“How dare you! What the hell do you think you’re—”

“Aha!” Jack announced over Will’s indignant tirade, producing a slightly smaller flintlock from the bottom of the chest. “Come along, Lizzy. Scuse us, whelp!” Jack grabbed Lizzy’s hand and squeezed past the flabbergasted Will Turner, and did not stop until they reached the deck once more. “Now, try this one,” said Jack, measuring out a bit of powder and pouring it down the barrel. A patch and a smaller lead ball followed, and he offered the gun to Lizzy, who was breathing hard from their mad dash amid decks and… _well_. For such a quick lock of lips Jack’s kiss left her rather _scrambled_ inside.

The handle of the pistol was inlaid with bone and silver chasing, and her lips curled with delight as she extended her arm in the direction of the ill-fated coconut.

“Oh yes, this feels much better,” she admitted. She pulled the trigger, trying not to let herself jump at the loud report.

This time she at least clipped the coconut, sending it spinning around and around like a top upon its barrel.

“Well done!”

It felt _ridiculously_ good to receive Jack’s praise, and she beheld him from beneath her lashes coyly. He always seemed to know exactly what she needed, it seemed, no matter the circumstance. The thought made her heart skitter about her chest like a nervous filly.

“Let’s try again,” he said. “I have a feeling that coconut’s days are numbered.”

James regarded it sideways from his place lounging upon gunwale, his services usurped. “It’s missing an ear, at least.”

This time Elizabeth loaded the gun, knowing she would not have a gentleman standing by to oblige her in the heat of a battle. She’d never had time to reload anyway in all their previous boardings; it had been one shot and then on to the sword. She aimed again, noticing her arm was wavering a little with the swaying of the ship.

Jack dared step up behind her, adjusting her aim just a fraction. “Hold her steady.” Jack’s voice, a low rumble in her ear, sent gooseflesh erupting across her skin. “Feet square. Breathe. Pull the trigger at the bottom of your exhale.”

She did her best to ignore the distraction of the solid line of Jack’s body behind hers, the brush of his hair on her shoulder, the scent of him enveloping her senses with the warm wafting aroma of sandalwood, tobacco, sweat, and… _him._ Just _him_ and it was intoxicating as smoke from an opium pipe. Elizabeth took a deep breath, following Jack’s instructions as she pulled the trigger, and the coconut went flying over the side into the briny drink.

“Aha! Well done, Lizzy!”

“I’m not sure I can take the credit for that one,” she said quietly, wanting him to stay pressed against her just a _little_ longer.

“Anytime you need assistance _firing your pistol_ , love, you have only to ask.” A blush set her ears and cheeks on fire, and she elbowed Jack lightly in the ribs. He stepped back with a cough, a be-ringed hand covering his wicked trickster’s smile.

“I think that’s enough _target practice_ for the day,” ground out Will from the sidelines, clearly livid. Though he was not wearing his sword at the moment, his right hand absently groped at his hip as though he wished the blade were at his side.

Elizabeth sighed, offering the pistol back to Jack. It seemed the only words Will ever had for her these days were orders or scolding. “Oh no, love, that’s yours now. Keep it in good order, eh?”

“But it’s so _fine,_ ” she protested. “I couldn’t possibly…”

“A gift gladly given. Might save your life someday.”

She bit her lip but nodded, forgetting all about Will watching them from so close as Jack’s dark gaze held hers.

 

**XXX**

 

“Is it true what James said?” asked Elizabeth later that evening. She and Jack stood by the gunwale, looking out over the sea shimmering like quicksilver under the full moon. “About you being in the merchant service?”

Jack took a long drag off the small cigar he held between his fingers, taking his time exhaling the smoke into the night. His first instinct, as usual when it came to questions about his past, was _evade evade evade._ However, there was a small part of him that wanted to tell her. That wanted her to know _him_ more than the _legend_ he hid behind.

After a long pause he finally answered, his voice low, “I was a captain for the EITC for a time, love. I made the run from London to Calcutta more times than I can count. Spices. Silks. Cashmere shawls and gemstones of every color o’ the rainbow. Ah, can you imagine the likes of _me_ being trusted with such cargo?” Jack’s fey smile glinted in the moonlight, and in that moment Elizabeth fancied it was no mere man standing beside her, but a trickster god come to amuse himself among the mortals.

Elizabeth imagined Jack as he must have been in those earlier times. Younger, clean shaven, his dark hair pulled back in a simple queue sans all the dreads and baubles. Fine clothes befitting a captain, rather than the ragtag costume of well-worn, patched, and mismatched garb he ported now. Perhaps a single elegant signet ring upon his hand, rather than the magpie’s horde of silver, gold, and gemstones that graced his long fingers now.

“Perhaps I can,” she answered quietly, and something in her tone made Jack near closer, drawn to her like the moon pulls the tide. That she could see more in him than what stood before her… It did things to his insides he wasn’t sure he liked or even entirely understood. “And I am sure a man of your exceptional seamanship was a valuable asset to the Company. What happened?”

“I’m sure you can guess.”

She was a quick lass and Jack had no doubt she would put two and two together.

“Cutler Beckett?”

Jack snapped his fingers, pointing at Elizabeth in affirmative. He seemed like he wished to say no more on the subject, however, tossing the butt of his finished cigar into the ocean. Its orange ember fell like a dying star until it fizzled in the water.

Finally, Elizabeth couldn’t stand it. “But what _happened,_ Jack?”

The pirate sighed, nearing closer still, and Elizabeth felt her heart begin to flutter in her chest. Jack reached up to caress her jaw, and her eyes slid closed. “You already know, Lizzy. You’ve seen my scars.”

She thought of those horrible burns and the brand on his forearm, scars he had shown her once on a desert isle when they were all alone, and she thought her heart might break in that moment for him. A chill ran down her spine, as it had the first time she’d laid eyes on them, and she took his hand, pushing up his sleeve. He let her, watching her curiously with eyes that glinted like obsidian.

“I _don’t_ know,” she insisted, tracing the veined web of the burn scar. “I can only imagine, and it’s terrible. _Why_ would he do this to you?”

The truth perched on the tip of Jack’s tongue, but caution held it back. “He had his reasons, in his own mind, I suppose.”

She shot him a frustrated frown, and he knew he wasn’t off the hook yet.

“Cutler Beckett’s mind is a cold and twisted place, Jack.”

“Aye, I won’t argue with that.”

Expectantly, she waited, and finally Jack sighed heavily. Feeling her fingers on his flesh, touching his skin, his scars…it made him feel… _too much_. Simply too much, and he grasped her hands in his, pushing them back to her sides. She appeared hurt by the gesture, not expecting her touch to be rebuffed, and he could certainly understand why, considering all the liberties he’d taken with her as of late. That full lower lip pushed out in a pout, and it took every iota of his self-control not to take it between his teeth in that moment.

“You don’t want to know, love. You really don’t.”

“You are telling _me_ that I don’t want to know you? _Me,_ Elizabeth Swann, who has been fascinated by stories of you since I was a girl?”

“This ain’t _A General History of the Pyrates_ , darlin’. Some things ain’t fit to print, if you take my meaning.”

Her frown only deepened, and she stamped her foot, unknowingly resembling a petulant child. The corner of Jack’s mouth twitched, not daring to point it out in that moment. “No. It’s the life and times of Captain Jack Sparrow, and I want to know them all. Do you expect to convince me to make a life with you without offering me the truth about you?”

Suddenly Jack’s interest sharpened. She saw it in his expression, like a wolf whose ears flicked in the direction of his prey, his nose to the wind. Aside from succumbing to his kisses—and to be honest, most women did—she had never admitted so explicitly that she was _considering_ his offer before. Just a moment ago he had tried to stop her from touching him, but now he lifted her hands to the nape of his neck, stepping closer. “Say you’ll be mine, Lizzy, right here, right now, and I’ll tell you anything you want to know.”

His fingertips ghosted down her forearms, causing a shiver to march down her spine. And even though she knew it was absolutely _insane,_ she felt herself considering it. Really, actually, considering handing herself all over to Jack, and putting an end to this cat and mouse game. A part of her longed to do it.

_Surrender._

Fly the white flag and let him board her to his heart’s delight…

“That’s not how this works, Jack,” she informed him, turning away just as his lips nearly met hers. “What if I make a bad bargain after all?” She didn’t really think it possible, but _he_ didn’t know that. “Or perhaps…perhaps you’re afraid to tell me because you fear I might think you even more a good man. Is that it?”

Jack froze in his caress of the line of her neck, a split second pause that spoke all the world to Elizabeth. She was spot on, surely. She stood up on tiptoe, steadying herself with a hand on his chest so that she could whisper in his ear, “Well it’s too late for that, you know. I already think it, and you shan’t change my mind.”

As she drew back there was a darkness in Jack’s expression that almost frightened her, and his fingers slipped into her hair, gripping her _just so_ at the base of her skull. “Maybe so, love. Or maybe I’m ashamed of what I did. Dare to consider that, hmm?” There was an edge to his voice that she’d never heard before, a rawness that set her hairs standing on end. “Perhaps I loaded two hundred souls into the belly of this ship off the Gold Coast because a short little git in a wig told me he’d pay me to do it. And maybe a quarter of them died of fear and disease and god knows what else in that hot miserable hell before I realized I didn’t have the stomach for it and set the rest of them free. And Beckett burned my ship and branded me a pirate. If I was going to be _a_ _good_ _man_ , I should have done it long before reaching Africa, wouldn’t you say?”

_A good man._

He spat the words like a curse, and Elizabeth flinched.

“Jack…” She reached for him, wanting to hold him to her, but the pirate captain released her from his grip and retreated several paces. She suddenly felt cold without him near, and she hugged her body against the chill. “We all make mistakes.”

“ _Mistakes._ Men, women, and children, Lizzy. So fucking scared all you could see was the whites of their eyes. And we told ourselves that they were just animals that happened to look like us but with dark skin, and we loaded ‘em like cattle. Don’t _ever_ call me a good man again.”

Thoroughly chastised, Elizabeth stood stock still upon the deck, watching Jack like a rabbit watches a panther. She’d never seen him so ruffled, and _never_ had he spoken to her so harshly before. He turned to the ocean, leaning upon the gunwale, his eyes looking upon memories of some dark past she could not see.

She dared take a step towards him. “You set them free, Jack.”

“Don’t.”

She took another step.

“You came to a moral realization that no one else in the Caribbean seems able to comprehend even now, Jack.”

“ _Pfft_.”

“I had slaves in my home back in Port Royal. Am I wicked?”

“Your father, certainly, but not you.”

Another step.

“I could have asked him to free them. The thought never even occurred to me at the time. A girl obsessed with freedom, and yet…” _And yet she had not seen._ There was so much she had not seen, had not even questioned, before she met Jack Sparrow.

“You were just a girl, Lizzy. But I was a _man,_ and I knew better, deep down.”

Jack stiffened as he felt her arms slide around him, her cheek nestled between his shoulder blades. He squirmed but she would not release him, hugging him to her, and in the end he relented, relaxing and pressing his hand over hers upon his heart. “You need to forgive yourself, Jack,” she whispered. “I already have.”

Perhaps it was her imagination, but she thought she felt a tremor run through Jack’s solid frame. When finally he spoke his voice came rough, words fighting to surface from the very bottom of his throat. “You are kind, Lizzy.”

“Sometimes.” It wasn’t exactly the first adjective she would ever attach to herself. In fact, all too often, she could be quite cruel…but the loathing she’d sensed in Jack’s words tore at her heartstrings, and she realized there was nothing she would not give in that moment to make him whole again.

Jack made to turn in her arms, and reluctantly she released him. They stood nearly toe to toe, regarding each other questioningly in the near perfect darkness. Somehow, his eyes seemed to have a light of their own, even in the shadows.

She opened her mouth to say something, _anything,_ but was interrupted by a terse call of “ _Elizabeth_.” Startled, she turned to find Will standing in the door of the companionway in his shirtsleeves and breeches, looking rather sleep-rumpled. Not so long ago the sight might have titillated, but now…now there was only _annoyance_ kindling in her belly. “It is _late._ Come to bed.”

It was Jack who immediately bristled, half turning to face the whelp. “And I thought _I_ was the one who gave orders on this ship?”

Elizabeth placed a staying hand upon Jack’s arm, recognizing that sour look upon Will’s visage all too well. “It’s alright, Captain Sparrow. I should get some rest before my next watch. Good night.”

Jack clearly wanted to argue, a light glinting in his eyes that was sharp as a blade. But in the end he ceded to her wishes, grumbling, “G’Night, _Lizzy_.” She smiled slightly for the pointed informality of his address of her, knowing it would needle Will, and sadly not caring one whit.

No, she was not _kind._ She was wicked as any man on this ship, excepting Will.

Poor Will, who did not belong here _at all._

Will and Jack took a long moment to glare at each other across the decks, before finally Will followed Elizabeth down the companionway. Jack could hear their hushed bickering floating up from the bowels of the ship, and he sighed heavily.

This encounter had not gone as he’d planned _at all,_ but Lizzy had a way of doing that to him. He had not intended to tell her about the slaves, about his darkest most _terrible_ sin…he had not imagined she could possibly forgive him for it. He could not forgive _himself_ for it, no matter what she said.

He supposed they had both learned something new about the other this night.

He needed a _drink_.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for reading and your comments! You have no idea how much delight they bring me! <3 <3


	7. Six Months

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> While careening the Pearl Jack shows Lizzy a private paradise.

 

# Chapter 7: Six Months

They had yet to find any Spanish prey, and so Jack decided the Pearl could use a decent careening. Being the fastest ship in the Caribbean did not mean the dark lady could outrun teredo worms, apparently, and they were doing a number snacking on the Pearl’s hull.

Exhausted from her shift of scraping away barnacles and detritus from the hull of the ship, Elizabeth sat in the shade of a palm tree. The Pearl lay like a beached whale on her side on a sand dune, secured by ropes, the contents of the hold scattered about the beach out of reach of the tide. Some of the men still worked upon the ship. Some rested in the shade. Some sat around a fire, over which was trussed a wild hog one of the men had shot. Tonight they would _feast_.

An overlaying shadow told Elizabeth of someone’s approach.

“You look overly _heated_ , darlin’.”

Jack plunked down in the sand next to her, offering her a bottle of rum. She took a swig and he grinned when she barely flinched as the liquid burned its way down. Ah, how far his Lizzy had come down the primrose path…

_His Lizzy._

A bit premature, perhaps, but he was working on that.

“Well, _your ship_ was filthy, Jack. I’ve been working hard to clean her up.”

His grin was nearly _blinding_ in the bright Caribee day. “How would you like to cool off?”

She huffed, looking longingly out at the waves. “You know we can’t go swimming here, Jack.” Will would be on them like a fly on shit in two seconds flat.

“No, not here…but I may know a place…that’s a bit more _secluded_.” He looked back towards the mountains that towered behind them. “A waterfall, a cool blue pool the color of a fine aquamarine…” He painted this picture in the most dulcet of tones, a twinkle in his eye.

Elizabeth bit her lip, paying Jack a sliding glance. She _wanted_ to. Oh, how she wanted to sneak off for a swim with her pirate captain.

“Flowers blooming all around, sapphire butterflies the size of your hand fluttering over head…” Jack went on, reeling her in as surely as a fish on a hook. He knew his audience. “Don’t you want to see it?”

Elizabeth sighed, leaning over to peer at the crew still working on the Pearl. Will was one of them, laboring shirtless, and not looking too happy about it. Jack leaned over to whisper in her ear, “If we’re fast he’ll never know you were gone.” A thrill tittered down her spine, and she felt herself nodding before caution could take hold of her. Knowing his window might be brief, Jack grasped her hand and pulled her towards the tree line.

The path was grueling, and Jack helped her up the steep rocks several times. She didn’t really _need_ his help—but she didn’t _not_ need it, she told herself, thrilled for the umpteenth time to be in his grasp. They were _alone_ in the _jungle_ and it occurred to her that Jack could do anything he liked with her here. There was no one a deck away to call out to—no one on the other side of the bulkhead to instill caution.

The thought did not scare her in the least, and she threaded her fingers tighter with Jack’s.

 _My God, she was a wicked thing_ , but she didn’t know how to stop.

Jack was like her forbidden fruit, and as time went on more and more she wanted to eat him up.

Jack pulled up to a stop, and Elizabeth could tell there was a clearing ahead, the sound of rushing water in the distance carrying through the air. “Ready, love?”

Red in the face, sweating like a pig, covered in bug bites, she didn’t know why that question was even necessary. She didn’t know which was the greater temptation: Jack, or the thought of bathing in cool fresh waters. She gave him _the look,_ and he smiled wider. “Close your eyes, then.”

She did, and heard the rustling of Jack pulling aside the large fronds of a banana plant. With a hand on the small of her back he gently pushed her forward. “Alright, open them,” he whispered in her ear, and she gasped for the jewel-bright sight spread out before her. The _pool_ was nearly a _lake,_ and the falls crashed down from what must have been a hundred feet. “Oh Jack,” she sighed, leaning back against him. It seemed too _vivid_ to be real. “The _color._ ” Between the blue pool and the bright orange, pink, and yellow blooms that painted the surrounding forest, the lagoon was a marvel.

“It looks like a fairy tale. Like there should be a mermaid brushing her hair on that rock,” she said.

Jack chuckled. “Ye better hope there are no mermaids in there, Lizzy. ‘Sides, they only like salt water, and praise Calypso for that.”

“Have you ever met a mermaid?” asked Elizabeth, taking his hand as he led the climb down to the pool.

Jack made a comical face. “Nasty things.”

Somehow, she believed him. “Are they not beautiful as the legends say?”

“Oh, they’re beautiful alright. Up until the point where they try to sink their sharp teeth into ye. If ye ever meet one, love, treat it like a shark, _not_ a helpless fair maiden singin’ pretty songs. Though I don’t rightly know how they would feel about a woman. Who knows. Maybe you’d rub along.”

“They only eat men?”

“It seems to be their preference.”

“Hmm. Well that’s heartening,” she teased, paying Jack a sideways look. He pretended to glare, but in the end could not hide his smile. They jumped down to a flat rocky plateau that appeared to be the best entry point to the pool.

Jack began stripping down, making a pile of his boots and baldric, effects, scarf, and sash. When he removed his shirt Elizabeth guffawed, and when his hands went to the ties of his breeches she _blanched_. “Jack! You can’t possibly!”

His smile was that of a satyr’s, all too knowing. “You expect me to get my clothes wet?”

“Well we cannot swim _naked_!”

“We _could,_ in fact.” However, the look of scandalized fear on her face seemed to damper the proposition. “Oh _all right_.”

“And you cannot touch me.”

“What?!”

Now _he_ appeared scandalized, and Elizabeth hid her smile behind her hand. Now that the initial shock had worn off she took time to study his bare torso, banded with muscle hard won in all his years sailing. There were scars and tattoos of all manner, and her fingertips itched to trace them, to ask for the stories and kiss them clean in reward.

No, no touching would be key, she devised, or she would lose herself utterly to him. And she was not yet ready to surrender in this war.

She balled her fists at her sides, attempting to banish the ache of protest to this good sense in her fingers.

“You heard me. That’s my condition.”

“What a poor reward for bringing my lady to such a private paradise!” he exclaimed, feigning hurt as he tried not to smile.

“Indeed, you are terribly hard done by, Captain Sparrow.”

“Well, let it not be said that Captain Jack ever shied from a challenge.”

“I don’t believe I issued a _challenge_ ,” she insisted, a hand upon her hip.

“No?” With a puckish grin Jack approached the edge, and seemed to trip. Elizabeth gasped—until he hit the water in a perfect dive that barely made a splash. She exhaled her relief, hoping Jack could not read it all on her face when he surfaced with a shit-eating grin.

“Come on down, love, the water is _fine._ ” He made a show of floating on his back, and Elizabeth was hard-pressed not to stare.

“I think I shall inspect the waterfall first,” she said, divesting herself of her boots, sash, and tunic, and making her way around the pool. The rushing water sounded like an excellent way to get herself _clean._ Baths, it seemed, were the only thing she _really_ missed from her old life.

“Careful, Lizzy. Those rocks are slick and the water is meaner than it looks, eh?”

“I’ll be fine,” she told him, picking her way into the less powerful stream on the side. It was cool, and _heavenly,_ and she groaned as the water streamed over her, carrying away sweat and grime and god knew what else. She wished she’d brought some soap.

When she emerged from the stream, wiping the water from her eyes, she found Jack stared at her from across the pool. She was no stranger to men’s looks, but Jack’s gaze upon her did something _inexplicable_ to her insides. Her clothes clung to her skin, and she knew her white linen shirt was rendered rather translucent by the water. Had she not bound her breasts with yards of wrapping she would have appeared naked from the waist up.

_Scandalous._

When had she turned into such a shameless little tart?

She didn’t care, she realized. She was _free,_ and the old rules that had bound her were like a distant dream, a foggy apparition in her memory.

 As though he could pull her with his eyes alone, she found herself stepping towards him.

This careless step proved her downfall. The rocks were slippery with moss, and her feet went out from under her. She bounced once on the boulder before plopping into the drink.

“Lizzy!” She might have been flattered by the pure panic in that one word, had she been above water to hear it.

Jack made for her as fast as he could. She did not surface, and he was grateful for the clear water, able to just make out her dark form in the depths below. He dove, grabbing her about the waist and pulling her to the surface. It all felt rather familiar.

As soon as they reached the air Elizabeth sputtered and coughed, clutching Jack’s solid form like a lifeline. Jack found purchase with his toes on a boulder and held her up so that she could breathe.

“Well, it didn’t take long for you to break that rule,” she sputtered between coughing up water.

Jack huffed. “Didn’t take _you_ long to try and _drown_ yourself. Never cared much for Oephelia’s ending, meself, love.”

Elizabeth laughed through another cough, nestling into the bend of Jack’s neck. His strong arms wrapped around her were a _ridiculous_ comfort, and she didn’t want to relinquish them just yet. Her heart pounded in her chest and her hip ached where she’d struck the boulder. Luckily it hadn’t been her head.

The beaded water upon the column of his neck was ridiculously enticing, and without thinking, she kissed her savior’s pulse. It felt like the most natural thing in the world, and yet Jack stilled beneath her. Suddenly she was very aware of his chest rising and falling as he breathed, and the hammering of his heartbeat beneath his skin.

He lifted a hand to brush her wet hair from her face, his expression surprisingly solemn. “Are you alright?”

“Yes.”

“Looked like you hit the rocks on the way down.”

“Just my side. I’m fine.”

He nodded, his hand cradling the side of her face. She was tougher than she looked, and he believed her. She marveled at how quickly Jack had closed the distance between them and wrested her from the deep. She had been a bit disoriented under water, but had been just about to right herself and push for the surface when his strong hands had closed around her, pulling her up. It moved her, to say the least.

She could not completely blame Jack for what happened next. She closed her eyes, and tilted her chin just so, and in the silent language that was older than time between men and women it could only mean one thing. He kissed her, of course, holding her close as his mouth slowly, methodically, pillaged hers. Jack left no stone unturned, claiming her with his lips and his tongue, kissing her in a way that almost felt like he wanted to _devour_ her. Finally Elizabeth had to surface with a gasp, though she much preferred this method of being deprived of air.

“ _Jack.”_ He kissed her jaw and the long line of her neck, and her fingers dug into his bare shoulders like claws, holding on. The utter _cacophony_ he called up from within her left her dizzy, weightless, without anchor except for where his hands held onto her body, and then where his body pressed into hers as he pinned her against one of the nearby boulders. It was as though her body already knew the steps to this dance, one long leg curling up around his hip. She knew what that firmness was between his legs was _,_ though she certainly had never had the opportunity to truly investigate that part of a man.

Will never allowed it.

Jack would, she knew. Jack would give her _everything,_ and all she had to do was ask. Maybe not even that.

“Jack,” she said again, breathless, not sure what she really intended to convey. It was all happening so fast, but it felt _so good…_ She’d never been warned about _that_ part of sin. When he drew back Jack blinked to focus, as though waking from a dream, his dark eyes hooded. _Desire,_ she realized. This was what it looked like. It was not an ugly, lascivious demon, but a handsome man who took you in his arms, who protected you, who _adored_ you, who wanted to…she realized she still didn’t quite know how to fill in that last blank, but the clamor in her veins urged her to shed some light on the mystery.

She lifted her fingers to trace his bottom lip, and gently Jack nipped at the tips of her digits.

“ _Lizzy_ …” He could not resist kissing her again, and returned to the svelte line of her throat. “Can you imagine what it would be like to make love here?” he whispered against her skin, his voice low and gravely in a way that send gooseflesh marching across her skin. “The falls crashing behind us and the beauty of the jungle all around…” His teeth grazed the hollow of her throat, and her hands convulsed upon his shoulders as her body pulsed and writhed down below. She could not believe the _heat_ Jack evoked in the cradle of her hips, a slow-moving fire like lava creeping down a mountain. The ache she felt for him _there_ was so profound it nearly _hurt._

“What _would_ it be like?” she dared ask, feeling magnificently wicked to discuss such a forbidden thing with Jack Sparrow as he held her in his arms.

He laughed, a low almost _pained_ sound that echoed through her skin. “I can’t rightly tell you, love.”

“ _Psssh_. I’m not _that_ naïve, Jack. I know you’ve… _had_ other women.”

He lifted his head to stare into her eyes then, and his gaze pierced her with something almost _unbearably_ hot, straight through her core. He stroked the side of her face with the back of his hand, their skin slick with beaded water. “Aye, I’ve _had_ other women. But I’ve never wanted anyone the way I want _you,_ Elizabeth. So I can’t tell you what it’s like to join bodies with someone you’ve _needed_ this long.” He watched her reaction to these words with hunger burning in those dark eyes; her parted lips, her muted gasp, her honeyed brown eyes wide as saucers. A small smile tugged at the corner of his mouth; it was almost _sad,_ and Elizabeth didn’t understand.

“How do I know you don’t say that to all the girls?” she answered, her leg hooked over his hip pulling him closer all the while.

“Perhaps I do,” he answered quickly, too quickly, as though he’d revealed too much and was glad for the chance to backpedal. “’Spose it comes down to how much you trust me, Lizzy.”

She laughed a little at that, but not for the reason he thought. She laughed because she _did_ trust Jack Sparrow, perhaps more than she had any right to. Elizabeth leaned in to kiss him again, but he stopped her with a hand upon the base of her throat. Not hard, but his hand was large, his long fingers engulfing that most vulnerable part of the body—she _liked_ it. Her eyes slid closed, her head tilted back against the rock behind her. She felt him near close once more, then the press of his soft lips upon her chest, and _lower,_ nudging aside the wet collar of her shirt.

_She trusted Jack Sparrow with her life._

Next to that, was a heart such a daring leap?

Throughout all of this exchange Will did not enter into her thoughts, not even once.

Elizabeth’s eyes flew open when the sounds of voices in the jungle echoed through the trees. More of the men had finished their chore and fancied a dip, it seemed. With a rueful smile, Jack slowly backed away, treading water as easily as a fish.

By the time the other crew members arrived Jack and Lizzy were swimming in the center of the pool, a moderate distance from each other. No one batted an eyelash at the sight, and soon several others cannonballed and dove into the once tranquil pool. Suddenly remembering herself, the spell broken, Elizabeth’s heart lodged in her throat as she watched them emerge from the trees one by one, but Will was not among them.

She wondered if he was looking for her, or if he already knew where she would be, and didn’t want to see.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for reading and your comments!!! You make writing this story such a delight! <3 <3 <3


	8. Seven Months

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Pearls pursue a Spanish prize. The costs are high.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *It was traditional to refer to crewmembers by a ship’s name. Like if you crewed the HMS Surprise, collectively, you were Surprises. Lol. So that’s what I mean when I say Pearls, respectively.  
> *As usual, lol, I feel compelled to iterate I don’t actually have anything against the Spanish or the French. ::waves at my ancestors:: It was just the times, you know, that the English, French, and Spanish were pretty much enemies all the time, even when there was a peace treaty on.  
> *And and and My hearty thanks to Mariel for the word pajarraco, which means ugly little bird. XD <3

# Chapter 8: Seven Months

 

When at last they found their Spanish prize it seemed possible the Pearls had bitten off more than they could chew. It was not even a proper Galleon, but a smaller trade frigate. The advantage should have been theirs, and the Spanish had even _surrendered,_ striking their colors when they realized they could not outrun the Black Pearl, only to ambush the pirates once they boarded.

Clever, but infuriating.

What was supposed to be a peaceable heist quickly turned into a full scale battle, and as he parried and slashed and stabbed Jack wondered what the ever loving _fuck_ was so precious on this seemingly innocuous ship that these men would fight so furiously to defend it. He kept one eye on the battle, and one eye on Elizabeth, which was no easy way to win a fight. It seemed Norrington and the whelp did the same, though she made an excellent account of herself on the deck that was quickly becoming slick with blood. The men would have done better to watch their own arses instead of hers.

“You should surrender!” barked Jack in Castillian when he found himself face to face with _Nuestra Señora Inmaculada’s_ captain. “Your men are dying and none of this was necessary!”

“I will not take advice from a _pirate_ what is necessary to uphold my duty, _pajarraco_ ,” spat Capitán Garcia de Vargas y Salazar. “You will not dishonor my family again.”

Jack frowned. “I’m sorry, have we met?”

The fact that Jack did not seem to remember this man’s relative, the great Almirante Salazar, infuriated the captain even more, and he doubled his efforts to put his sword in Jack’s belly.

Nothing in her experience up to that point could have prepared Elizabeth for this fray. Not the siege of Port Royal, or the undead battle in the treasure cave, nor the bar fight on Tortuga. This was _pure hell,_ a close quartered hacking match of cutlasses and boarding axes, bodies crammed so close on the decks that skill with a blade _almost_ didn’t even count. It was sweaty, dirty, _bloody_ work, but she did not allow herself to think about that. To think too hard would be to die, she was certain, and so she focused on breaking the Spaniard’s defensive line, and staying out of the way of anything pointy _._

Now and then a gunshot went off, grapeshot peppering the deck from the shrouds, and she felt helpless in defending against _that_. A strange sense of fatalism settled over her; chance would claim who it may, and if it was her—hopefully it would be quick.

This was the price of true freedom, and perhaps later she would be able to ruminate on whether the bill was too steep.

Jack was fighting the Spanish captain, and out the corner of her eye she spied them exchanging blows and repartee up on the quarterdeck. Jack kept ahead of him with gymnastics and feints more than actual skill with a blade, and she smiled a little at that. If there was ever a straight line between any point, Jack would always follow the most winding path to connect them, running his beautiful mouth all the while.

Then behind Jack she noticed someone up in the ratlines with a pistol, levelling the barrel at the back of her pirate captain’s head. “Jack!” The focus of her world narrowed, the din quieting to a strange whisper as without really thinking she drew the pistol from her sash, aimed down her arm, and pulled the trigger.

The Spaniard in the ratlines jerked and went limp, hanging by one booted foot caught in the ropes.

Jack turned to her, his dark eyes wide. “Lizzy!”

There was a searing pain in her side, and then a hard crack upon her head. Jack was the last thing she saw before she fell to the blood-soaked deck, her vision going dark.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading and commenting!! You make my day, and it's so fun to work on this story again with your delightful support! <3<3<3


	9. Eight Months

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jack assists Lizzy in a speedy recovery...  
> Please note the rating of this story has changed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *Here you are, darlings. I promised I wouldn't make you wait long. ;) I have moved this story to the E rating, just to be safe, and for plans in future chapters. ::shrugs:: Hope no one has a problem with that… XD

# Chapter 9: Eight Months 

 

After a month of drifting in and out of consciousness, being poked with a needle, prodded and fussed at, scolded to eat more, sequestered to bed and told umpteen times that she needed to sleep, Elizabeth was _bored_ out of her _skull._

Never mind the fact that she had a slit in her side half the length of her arm. She was ready to _go out,_ but anytime she tried she was quickly shepherded back into Jack’s cabin. It was the nicest berth on the ship, and though no man was supposed to receive special treatment, everyone insisted on mollycoddling her, including Jack.

In the beginning she popped in an out of consciousness, to find Will at her bedside, or Jack, or even James once. He’d released her hand like a hot iron when she woke, and fled before she could say a word. His loss, for she might have liked some intelligent conversation.

When Will came to her there was only one thing on his lips. _We’re leaving._

She refused, of course. The argument became so heated one time that _Cotton,_ the ship’s informal doctor, had burst in and kicked the whelp out of the cabin. He’d mimed at Elizabeth that she would pull her stitches if she engaged in such things and wagged his finger scoldingly.

With a cheeky grin, she’d promised to be good, even though she had no intention of giving in to Will’s demands. She had survived—once she healed, she would be ready for more adventure, more danger. She knew it to the bottom of her soul.

Even Jack did not make for pleasant company at first, fussing over her like a mother hen, telling her off for taking her attention off the fight for the sake of his sorry hide.

She did not regret a thing, and she told him so in no uncertain terms.

He stormed off.

He returned, kissed her, and stormed off again.

He did not even thank her for saving his life until much later, when she seemed to be well on her way to healing, the worst of the fever passed.

The losses in the fight with the _Inmaculada_ had been heavy, and too many men were committed to the sea sewed up in their hammocks.

_A pirate’s life._

However, for the survivors, the rewards had been great. It became apparent why the Spanish had fought so fiercely: aside from valuables, jewelry, bullion, and silks from Manilla, several ladies had been hidden away in the hold, women from rich families on their way home back to Spain from Veracruz. It was not a pretty thought what a crueler pirate crew might have done with them, but Jack’s lot were better men than that. It was written in the Pearl’s articles that no woman shall be sullied against her will.

The take was so rich they decided not to even bother with ransom, sailing off into the sunset to let the _Inmaculada_ lick her wounds. They had plenty of their own to tend to.

After the fever passed Elizabeth devoured her way through all the books Jack had to offer. Daniel Defoe, Woodes Rogers, Jonathan Swift, Exquemelin, even Thomas Hobbes’ _Leviathan_ though it bored her to tears _._ She was so desperate she even began picking her way through a copy of _Don Quixote_ taken from the _Inmaculada,_ using her knowledge of Latin to puzzle out the Castillian.

Best she could tell, this Quixote bloke was an odd one, and there were _a lot_ of windmills in Spain.

Frustrated, she set the book on the side table, where a glass of water and a box of chocolate also rested, a delicacy also plundered from their latest prize. But she didn’t want to eat. She didn’t want to lay here anymore, immobile, when the weather was fair and she could just _feel_ the sun and the trade winds upon her face.

Frustrated, she lay back further into the down pillows.

They smelled like Jack. _Everything_ here did, and lying amongst his bedclothes, engulfed by the spiced sandalwood scent of him anytime she moved— _she was losing her mind._ And her mind was her only source of entertainment here, really, so she needed it intact. She tried to count the knots in the planks above her head, but quickly grew tired of it. She closed her eyes and tried to sleep.

She couldn’t.

She thought of the last time she’d been allowed to have any _fun,_ which had been at the swimming hole with Jack, before the whole crew interrupted them. But that was a lucky stroke, wasn’t it? Because she didn’t know what she might have let Jack do to her, had they not…

She thought of his hands upon her. Strong, calloused, clever… Her own hands drifted across her belly, up her side that was not fileted like a fish, and with her eyes closed she could _almost_ pretend it was Jack. What if they hadn’t been interrupted? Wicked thing, she let her mind wander, and her hands too. One found her breast, stroking a nipple that was pebble hard beneath her questing fingers. It made frissons of pleasure shoot through her loins, the ache that seemed to strike her anytime Jack so much as _looked_ at her.

Her right hand continued south, exploring the curve of her belly, and lower, caressing the downy curls of her sex.

_I’ve never wanted anyone the way I want you, Elizabeth._

Just the _memory_ of those words from his lips made her _wet_ , made her tighten and ache in places she’d always been told a lady ignored. Well, thank God she wasn’t a lady anymore.

This wasn’t the first time she’d touched herself with Jack Sparrow in mind. When she’d been naught but a teenager on the cusp of womanhood, she’d read about him, and even then she’d wanted him in ways she knew not how to describe. And after their time on the island… _oh._ It was rarely her fiancé Will Turner’s name on her lips when she explored herself at night, the rest of the household abed.

She experimented with touching herself, making small circles about that little fleshy nub between her folds. Her fingers were too soft, too small. She wished… _she longed._ She imagined hands that were larger, stronger, rough from the handling of ropes and helms and cutlasses yet knew so _perfectly_ what to do with her tender flesh… Her back arched, her hand moving faster, her heart beat loud as a drum in her ears.

“ _Jack_ …” she whispered, imagining him above her, his lips on hers, his weight pressing her down into the berth. She dipped a finger inside her weeping quim, wondering if it would be anything like _that_ to have him inside her. It wasn’t enough to slake this unnamable _need_ , and she doubted it. Somehow, she knew this was just a paltry taste, but it was all she had at the moment. She moved her hips against her hand, her breath coming quicker.

There was a fast knock and Elizabeth barely had time to right herself in the bed before Jack burst in the door, his boot heels knocking across the deck as he quickly crossed the floor. “’Lo, Lizzy,” he called absently, not looking at her, his eyes intently searching for something upon his desk. It was not there, apparently, and he began rooting in the drawers next, frowning as he rifled their contents. “ _Damn_ ,” he muttered under his breath, and went to a trunk, his back to her. He continued muttering under his breath, something about a silver drachym and winning a bet with Norrington.

She was grateful, and prayed she did not look so guilty as she felt, the fire of unrealized release still burning in her veins. Moving as quietly as she could, she smoothed her shirt and her hair and the sheets, wiping her hand upon the fabric. She took a deep breath, trying to calm her heart. A small smile pulled at her lips—which she fought not to let turn into a grin. _If only he knew._

It took a few moments for her to realize Jack had turned, and was looking at her rather acutely, his dark eyes narrowed.

Her heart returned to her throat.

His interest suddenly called elsewhere, Jack absently tossed the box he held back into the sea chest, and it struck with a rattle and a _crash._ He didn’t seem to care. “Are you alright, love?” he asked, his interest sharpened upon her. The trinkets in his mass of hair tinkled as he canted his head to regard her. Slowly he approached, looking her over thoroughly. “Ye look a bit… _piqued._ ”

“Yes, I’m fine,” she answered quickly. Too quickly, perhaps.

The corner of his mouth turned up, and in that moment he had the look of a wolf who had spied a lamb strayed from the herd.

“Aye? You must be awfully bored in here by yourself all day. All the books run through like a wildfire, I see.” He tutted his tongue, shaking his head. “There’s merit in learning to take your time, you know, all the better to _savor_ it.”

She frowned, suddenly quite unsure if he still spoke of _books._

Her posture straightened as he sat down on the berth beside her. He felt her forehead. “You’re a bit warm, but not _feverish._ ” Inwardly she groaned as he took her hand. _The hand,_ with which she’d touched herself with such abandon, _wishing it were him._ He considered it carefully, inspecting her long fingers in his own. The smirk widened slightly.

 _“_ Sticky fingers, love. Been into something _sweet?_ ” His eyes flitted to the box of chocolates at the bedside table, which was quite closed. She gasped as he lifted her fingers to his lips, sucking the tips clean. “ _Mmm_.” It came out more like a growl, and Elizabeth found she could not move, could not speak, could only watch him with horrified fascination. _Embarrassment_ burned in her veins, and yet—Jack was not _shaming_ her.

He simply seemed _intrigued,_ his dark eyes boring into her.

“Has it been driving you mad?” he asked quietly. “Laying here in _my_ bed? Does it make you wonder what it would be like?”

A shuddering sigh escaped her, and she closed her eyes, utterly unable to look at him in that moment. “ _Jack_ …” she pleaded, unsure if she was asking for mercy, or confirming his all too astute observation. Nothing escaped him, it seemed. _Ever_. 

“Well, don’t let me interrupt you,” he urged her, kissing her fingers and leading her hand back down, beneath the sheets. She gasped as his hand _and her hand_ slipped beneath her shirt, and inside the loosened laces of her breeches _._ His rings were cool on her flesh and she gasped. “How do you like it, Lizzy?” he asked before claiming her lips with a gentle kiss, his tongue caressing her lower lip. He moved his thumb against her, which in turn pressed _her_ fingers into her sensitive flesh. Her hips moved of their own accord, and a small sound escaped her that could easily have been mistaken for pain.

What a strange thing desire was, writhing and pulsing, practically making her _its slave_ in its demand to be slaked. She could not think of anything past Jack’s hand upon her, and the release it could bring her if she moved _just so._ Feeling bold, or perhaps utterly mad, she dared to remove her hand. “ _Show me_ ,” she whispered against his lips, and it was Jack’s turn to groan, a low throaty growl that raised gooseflesh all down her spine. He caressed her with his thumb slowly, trying the waters, and she felt her body align to him like strings to a bow.

“I would wager my last doubloon the boy’s never touched you like this,” he said against her ear, the motion of his thumb quickening against her, his teeth nipping at her earlobe.

“ _No_ ,” she admitted, her voice almost unrecognizable as her own. “No, he wouldn’t dare.”

Jack snickered a little, the sound sending a thrill down her spine. “Stupid boy. When are you going to tell him, Lizzy?”

She didn’t know where she got the pluck to toy with him, retorting haughtily, “Tell him _what,_ Jack?”

The pirate laughed, pausing in his administrations between her legs. A mewling sound of protest escaped her, and his grin widened. “Tell him to _go away,_ ” he iterated, thinking briefly back on an encounter he’d had with the whelp shortly after Elizabeth’s accident. Swords had been drawn, dramatic speeches exchanged. Lizzy didn’t know it, but Jack let Will cool off in the brig for three days before he felt he could let the boy roam again without receiving something pointy in his back.

Elizabeth found it hard to think, and she tried to move her hips against his hand, but he held himself back _just so._ She didn’t know where she grasped the presence of mind to quip, “And I thought we bargained for a _year_ , Jack? Are you going back on your promise?”

Jack growled, thinking that if she did in fact make him wait a year he might _die_ of wanting. And yet if she still wasn’t sure…

She _would_ be.

He would make sure of it, starting now, and he began to move his thumb against her again. She practically _melted_ with relief, moaning sweetly in his ear.

“God, Lizzy, you are _so_ wet,” he ground out before kissing her again. “Who _is_ it you were thinking of?” he asked, _demanded,_ his teeth grazing her skin. This moment of doubt amidst all his certainty was endearing somehow, and she pulled him close, her hand finding the bare skin at the base of his throat.

“ _Of course it was you_ ,” she whispered, her defences down, and he rewarded her by kissing her deeply and moving faster, harder, touching her at a pace she hadn’t even known she would like. Her side ached, the flesh around her stitches pulled, but she was helpless to these sensations and she couldn’t bring herself to care, immune to the pain. She buried her face in the bend of his neck, and suddenly her release was upon her like a lightning strike, her spine arching, her strangled cry of abandon muffled in his hair. Pleasure bloomed in the cradle of her hips, spread through her body to the tips of her toes.

She saw _stars._

Elizabeth had _never_ felt _anything_ like that at her own hands, and as she shuddered with the aftershocks in his arms a small joyful laugh escaped her. Utterly incapable of speech, she kissed his neck and rested there in the cradle of his arms, regaining her breath. He caressed her hair and the curve of her spine, making her shudder even more under his skilled touch. Was there no end to what this man could do to her?

It was Jack who spoke first quietly against her temple. “If I pulled your stitches Cotton will have my hide.”

She chuckled in response, her body shaky, spent, _exhausted,_ and this time it _did_ hurt. Somehow, it had been more than worth it. “That wasn’t in the doctor’s orders?” she teased. “I feel _much_ better.”

“Well, he is mute so I suppose we could claim a misunderstanding,” he quipped with a wolfish grin that somehow, after all this, made her blush. Delighted, he touched her burning cheeks with a gentle smile. “ _You’re_ _beautiful_ ,” he assured her, kissing her forehead.

“And you are… _generous_.”

He chuckled in response to that. “I can be, love.” Their lips brushed. “Does that mean you’re ready again?”

“ _Again_?” she asked, scandalized and delighted in equal parts.

“Oh yes. A fiery young lass like you…oh _darlin’_. There’s no tellin’ how many you’ve got in you. Imagine what it would be like to have me touch you like that with my clever trickster’s _tongue._ ”

At last, he succeeded in shocking her, her mouth forming a surprised O. The pirate laughed, smiling wide, a tender mischief twinkling in his eyes. She always found _him_ beautiful, she reckoned, but in _that_ moment… _oh._  It really wasn’t fair.

“That would seem… _selfish_ , perhaps, considering,” she finally answered, allowing her gaze to stray down to his groin. The bulge in his breeches was _quite_ prominent, and Jack’s grin turned back to a smirk. “Would you like…that is…you’ll have to show me how…” She wasn’t even sure what she should _call it._ She had so much to learn, and the thought that a man like Jack could ever really be satisfied by her… It seemed impossible. Utterly surreal. But the way he looked at her now…it defied all expectation. All logic. Everything she ever thought she’d known.

There was nothing he would have liked more, his desire for this woman clamoring like an off-key symphony in his veins. It was jarring and _loud_ and he could hardly think around it. And yet she was not exactly the picture of health yet, and he knew afterwards he would not be happy with himself if her recovery was _delayed_ due to his own selfish _needs_.

Since when had such things mattered to him? This woman had him tied up in _knots._

He kissed her again, _hard,_ his fingers tangled in her hair. “I’ll take ye up on that sometime soon, love,” he promised. “But at the moment you’re slit nearly from your naval to your nose, _on my behalf_ I might add, and I think you should rest. You should have no trouble fallin’ asleep _now_.”

She didn’t know how it would be possible, and yet after he kissed her sweetly once more and tucked her in, sleep claimed her quickly. Upon exiting the cabin Jack took a detour to the hold, intent on finding a dark corner where he could be alone with his hand for…five seconds? He groaned, resisting the urge to bang his head against the wall.

_Four more months until a year was up._

She would be the _death_ of him.


	10. Nine Months

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Elizabeth heals up...and continues to drive Jack mad. ;)

# Chapter 10: Nine Months

 

Freshly healed, her stitches out, Elizabeth was placed on light duty. Which meant she scoured the Pearl looking for something to do, while the rest of the crew insisted the Poppet should still rest. When she found Gibbs grumbling about inventory in the hold she offered to help make the counts, and he was all too eager to hand it over to her. She’d proved more than once that she was good with numbers.

The hold was musty, dark and damp, but Elizabeth liked having some time to herself as she tallied crates and barrels. Now that she was out of Jack’s cabin privacy was a commodity once again.

Not that any of the men bothered her. Sometimes she felt their eyes upon her, perhaps, but for the most part the crew had accepted her as one of their piratical little family, especially after she had fought and bled for the prize of the _Inmaculada_. She took it as a great honor, and cherished her place among them more than she could say.

Will, however, hated it here. It was more and more obvious with every passing day, and she knew it was only a matter of time before he put his foot down. Strangely, however, after all these long months it finally seemed to occur to the boy that a sour temper and surly mood did nothing for his cause in keeping Elizabeth close to him.

“I know what you want, Elizabeth,” he’d said to her the night previous, joining her at the taffrail late in the evening, daring to place tentative hands upon her shoulders. Surprised, she’d turned to him with wide honey brown eyes. It was the sweetest he’d spoken to her in ages. Though the proclamation was dodgy at best. She didn’t even think _she_ knew what she wanted, outside of being _free_. After she’d woken from her nap the day she let Jack touch her she’d undergone the most _horrendous_ bout of guilt. Worse than looks or intimate conversations or kisses _ever_ made her feel.

It was really the first time she truly absolutely without a doubt felt she’d been _unfaithful,_ and it was a gray nebulous feeling she did not like at all. One moment she felt justified, and the next like she should beg for forgiveness from her clueless fiancé. As though he knew all too well, Jack took her following rebuffs on the chin, and did not press her overly for favors as some men would have.

Maybe he hated the label, but Jack really was a good man.

Or, he was biding his time.

“What do you mean?” she’d asked her fiancé, and he’d lifted a hand to her cheek, studying her face carefully in the shadows. He’d kissed her, and she let him, going through all the motions, the touch of lips giving way to a war of tongues. She’d waited for that _spark_ to flare, the fire kindling inside, the way it did with Jack. Surely it would? Will was her fiancé, she loved him. He was good and sweet and faithful, everything a woman should want in a husband.

Yet who could have fathomed that _Jack Sparrow_ , with his handsome ship and a hold full of gold, could ever seem a more _secure_ prospect? She batted the thought away. Some of that gold was theirs, after all. They could take it to the new world under a new name…open a smithy in the American colonies, perhaps, and live new lives. Perhaps Charlestown, where they could be by the sea…

And she would look on it longingly between her chores at home, remembering a time when she had sailed among the Brethren of the Coast, had been the thing that goes bump in the night for all the good little merchant sailors scudding across the great blue ocean…

She could never tell her children who she was—who she _had been_. They would think her good and sweet and dutiful and never guess their mother had once raised a sword in battle or drank dark rum with a legend in the making beside her.

Will had continued to kiss her, backing her slowly up against the taffrail. His hands fumbled with her coat, unbuttoning her slowly, until he could slip his hand inside. He was shaking, and somehow…she almost felt as though _she_ was taking advantage of _him_. “Will…”

“It’s alright,” he’d said, kissing her cheek, her jaw, her neck. “We don’t have to wait. I’m sorry I said no, before. I’m sorry I’ve been so…cross. It’s just that nothing has gone the way it was supposed to.”

“I don’t think there ever is a set way things are meant to go,” she’d admitted before she could stop herself. “Fate seems like such a fickle thing.”

She’d thought she and Will fated, once. She’d rescued him as a boy, watched over him. He was her best friend. They were _supposed_ to be together, regardless of class, or even _law_. Hadn’t the gods decreed it, when they gave him to her like a gift from the sea?

Now, she suspected the gods were just laughing. Laughing, _laughing_ , all the time, sod them all.

Will froze against her, his hand pausing upon her sash. She realized that she’d always told him she thought their love was fate. Now she was telling him she didn’t believe in fate. Did that mean she didn’t believe in their love?

She didn’t know. She didn’t fucking _know._ Why were there no easy answers? She didn’t want to hurt him. It was the _last_ thing in the world she wanted, to cause this sweet boy pain. She’d sighed and lifted his hands from her, kissing his knuckles. “It’s alright, Will. You don’t have to do this for me.”

Will’s eyes narrowed, a question on the tip of his tongue. She’d been so _eager_ before—was someone else _doing it_ for her? Jack Sparrow, perhaps—he wasn’t a complete fool. He was all too aware of the way Jack looked at her, and if he was even more honest with himself, the way Elizabeth looked at Jack.

“Let’s just…talk,” she’d suggested. “It’s been so long since we talked.”

They’d tried. But every conversational thread met a dead end, and eventually Will had given up, kissing her lightly and going to bed. Elizabeth stood at the back of the ship an hour more, and cried.

_What was she going to do?_

During their stunted conversation William had brought up one request: help him find the chest containing Davy Jones’ heart. She’d told him she would, knowing all the while that even if she were to stumble upon it here in the hold she would not hand it over to him.

Bootstrap Bill had sealed his own fate along with Barbossa and the rest of the mutinous crew; the chest was a power she felt much better having in Jack’s hands than anyone else’s.

Not that it was likely that the coveted chest was hidden down here. Jack would never be so foolish. It was probably secreted in his cabin, underneath his bed…another place she could have access to again if she wished, though Will would rather _die_ than send her on _that_ mission.

She wondered if she should just let him go.

Could she be so brave? Yet...she didn’t think he _would_ go. Not without a fight. Not without the Heart. These posed problems she didn’t have a good solution for yet. And there was that other little detail: she _loved_ him, didn’t she? The thought of losing her childhood sweetheart made something deep in her soul ache.

She did not like feeling like a failure.

_And what of losing Jack?_

That too caused a sharp, nigh _intolerable_ pain inside.

All she had were difficult questions, it seemed, and no good answers. Best just to carry on with what she was doing. The day to day tasks, the sailing of the sea. Ah, and _prizes._ Jack had shown her some of the jewelry taken from the _Inmaculada,_ and some of the things were so fine and heavy and encrusted with jewels that not even _she,_ a governor’s daughter, had ever had a hope to possess in her former life.

Lost in her thoughts, she remained rather oblivious to her surroundings, so much so that when a strong pair of arms encircled her waist she started and opened her mouth to scream. This impulse was quashed, however, when a mouth closed upon hers, and the scent of salt and sandalwood engulfed her senses.

_Jack._

Her scream melted into a moan, and blindly she set down her lantern so that she could bury her hand in his mass of dark hair, trinkets jangling as she did so.

“What do you think you’re doing?” she gasped, surfacing for a desperate gulp of air, her nerves _on fire_ for his touch. Those strong hands traced the ladder of her ribcage, down to the curves of her waist. He was gentler on the side where she’d been cut, and she softened at the knowledge that he still remembered.

“Thought that was fairly obvious,” he quipped against the skin of her throat, trailing kisses down her neck as she tilted back her head to better receive them. “I want to touch you again, Lizzy. I want to _taste_ you.” As though he knew her knees had gone weak at hearing those words he lifted her to sit upon a crate and went back about the business of pillaging her mouth. She gasped again as his hips nudged her legs apart, so that he could _press against her._

She should have slapped him, pushed him away, told him to stop…

She wrapped her long legs around him, pulling him closer, winning a low groan that left her feeling a fierce _triumph_ that was just as intoxicating as his lips on her skin.

She felt dizzy, utterly _mad_ with…with _whatever_ this was that Jack called up in her. Will had kissed her just the night before and she felt practically _nothing._ Certainly nothing, compared to this mad reeling magic conjured with Jack’s lips on hers.

“Jack, Will is asleep in a hammock _just over our heads!_ ” she hissed, grasping for some sane reason to put a stop to this.

“Aye, sleeping like a babe. I checked,” Jack agreed, and she forgot what point she’d actually meant to make with this information. They stared at each other from a breath away, the tips of their noses nearly touching.

He hadn’t really had a chance to be alone with her since she’d had her stitches removed and vacated his cabin, and he’d felt her absence like a growing hole in his heart. Will watched over her like a hawk, and though there was very little about the boy Jack respected, young William’s alarmingly sharp sword _was_ on the list.

He caressed her hair with a tenderness that was a startling contrast to his earlier onslaught, and her heart continued to attempt escape from her chest. “I’ve missed you.”

 _Missed_ was the understatement of the year. He barely slept, pacing his cabin like a tiger in a cage, scheming upon how next to go about getting her back in his arms again. _The feel of her sweet soft flesh upon his fingers, his name ragged upon her lips, needy, pleading, Jack…_ Knowing she slept just a deck below his feet and yet he could not _touch her_ made him want to climb the walls, or perhaps throw that damnable boy overboard and be done with it.

He knew she’d felt guilty about their little _tryst,_ if one could call it that, in his cabin. By the skin of his teeth he’d managed not to press her for an encore when she’d claimed she was tired, or her side ached, or the sun was out. Somehow he knew if he held on too hard, she would slip right through his fingers, but the waiting was slowly killing him.

 But if he could just _remind_ her, _just a little,_ perhaps she would soften to him again…

“I haven’t gone anywhere.”

“You know what I mean.”

Elizabeth bit down on her reply, knowing it could lead nowhere good. Yet in the end she felt her head nodding of its own volition.

He kissed her again, softer this time, and yet somehow it caused her to melt even more beneath him, rendering her clinging, pliant, _utterly_ at his mercy. She arched as she felt his hand find its way beneath her shirt, his fingers splaying upon her side, tracing the new scar that went from her hip all the way up to just under her breast. “ _Jack_ …”

Elizabeth didn’t know if it was a protest or an encouragement. “Do you want me to stop, Lizzy?” His voice came low, husky with desire, and that _she_ could affect him so made her feel powerful in a way she didn’t yet quite understand.  

He told himself that he would stop if she really wanted him to. He just didn’t think she really wanted him to…

Again, she thought of Will the night before, and their empty kisses. It hadn’t always been that way. Was there a way to regain that fire, or once it was gone…was it simply _gone_?

“I…”

She simply could not _think._ She had to gain control of this situation somehow, or else she might…

_She would give him everything._

“I suppose you would like to collect on your _turn_ ,” she said evasively, reaching down between them to brush her fingers against the hard bulge in the front of Jack’s breeches.

A rather strangled sound escaped Jack, his fingers flexing upon her side, and in that moment she felt strangely powerful, that such small contact could render this man so… _undone_. “I was thinking more along the lines of an _equal_ exchange,” he corrected, taking her mouth again with a kiss that made her _melt_ once more.

 _This was it_ Elizabeth realized, her head tilted back at an almost painful angle as Jack kissed her neck, her collarbone, and lower, her body taut as a longbow. Desire sang in her veins once more, taking hold of her body and soul with a _merciless_ totality. She was going to lose her virginity on a crate in the hold of the Black Pearl to _Jack Sparrow_ , and lose it _gladly._

“Elizabeth?” Will’s voice echoed down through the hold, and immediately Jack blew out the lantern, plunging them into darkness. He pulled her behind the crate upon which they had been snogging, folding her into his body as they crouched, their breathing sounding loud as a trumpet in such close proximity. She felt the rough curve of Jack’s whiskered cheek, and _knew_ he was smiling.

That boy had the _damndest_ timing.

They heard Will’s footsteps near closer, but the whelp had not brought a lamp or a candle of his own. He paused beside their crate, undoubtedly squinting into the darkness, perhaps smelling the smoke of the extinguished wick. But in the end he turned on his heel and they listened to him clomp back up the companionway.

Elizabeth _felt_ more than heard Jack laughing behind her, and suddenly very annoyed, she drove her elbow into his ribs. What had been a golden rush of exhilaration had curdled into a mass of guilt and uncertainty inside her.

“ _Oof. What was that for?_ ” he hissed, and she huffed in answer.

“ _As if you don’t know._ ”

“ _You seemed to be enjoying yourself plenty.”_

She certainly had been, and that was part of what vexed her.

“ _This is all just a game to you._ ”

She tried to stand but Jack’s arm tightened about her waist like a band of iron. “ _Life is a game, Lizzy, but I take the stakes_ _of our little wager_ very _seriously.”_

He kissed her neck, and she felt herself melting all over again. This was _insane._ That he could approach her like _this,_ and she would _thank_ him for it. She could let him take her in this damp moldery hold without the slightest twinge of regret…until morning, perhaps, when she had to look upon Will’s face, and tell him...

Christ, what would she _tell_ him?

The thought made her struggle against Jack again, feeling trapped in the darkness by her doubts of herself and Jack’s strong grip.

She _needed_ fresh air.

“ _You don’t play fair, Jack Sparrow_.”

“ _No one who wins ever does, love_.” That was a lesson he’d learned the hard way, one too many times. And he _wanted_ to win this little game they were playing, _badly._ Yet when she truly made it known she wished to be released he let her go, and somehow restrained himself from giving chase as she fled up the stairs after Will.

He still had _some_ pride left, it seemed, but without her his arms felt _unbearably_ empty once again.

“Bugger.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much, all of you, for your continued interest in this story and your amazing comments! You make my day, seriously, I fly around on a little carpet of happy thoughts when I read your reviews! XD I never would have gotten the wind to finish this story without them!


	11. Ten Months

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Elizabeth has an altercation and an awakening.

# Chapter 11: Ten Months

 

“You are in the hold _all the time_ ,” spat Will. “If you’re not counting for Gibbs then you’re fetching potatoes or some nonsense for Cotton. I don’t think you’re even _looking_ for it.”

She wasn’t, but it annoyed Elizabeth that Will seemed to think she _would_ overlook the Chest, if it was there.

“Just because you would be so foolish to hide it in the hold doesn’t mean Jack is,” she spat, turning her back on her fiancé. Will felt he had seen quite enough of Elizabeth’s back as of late, however, and he gripped her arm, turning her forcibly back to face him.

“There’s the crux of it, isn’t it? You think I’m _stupid_.”

“No, I didn’t say that.”

She didn’t say that, _exactly._

“Then you just think I’m not as smart as Jack.”

Before she could stop herself a little laugh escaped Elizabeth. “ _None_ of us are as smart as Jack.”

By the way Will’s expression darkened she could tell immediately that this was not the thing to say to placate her fiancé.

Well, perhaps she didn’t want to _placate_ him. She didn’t want to tiptoe around his temper any more, or constantly watch her tongue for fear she might say the wrong thing. It was exhausting. His company was _tiresome,_ and the sadness in this realization weighed like a heavy gray stone in her belly.

Had she lost her childhood friend?

She hardly _recognized_ Will anymore.

She hardly recognized _herself_ either, but in a different way. She was not the princess of Port Royal any longer. She was becoming something else _entirely_.

“I suppose he has you _convinced_ of that, at least,” Will sniped.

Narrowing her eyes, Elizabeth parried, “ _You’ve_ certainly never managed to outwit him.”

Will raised to his full height before her, and Elizabeth couldn’t help but raise an eyebrow. Was he trying to _intimidate_ her? He lowered his voice so that he could not easily be overhead by the crew whose interest was growing by the second in their discussion. “I know that you wanted to have one last adventure before settling down, Elizabeth, and I have been _indulgent._ But my patience is wearing thin. _Help me find that Chest._ ”

Taken aback, Elizabeth straightened. “I believe you’re forgetting the part where we became fugitives of the law and had nowhere else to go. And furthermore, your _father_ brought his fate upon himself when he _abandoned you_ to be a pirate and _then_ mutinied upon Jack. A little bit longer on the Dutchman won’t hurt him.”

“You have _no idea_ what you’re saying. What it’s _like_ on that ship of the Damned. And as soon as I free my father we can leave these people.”

The sudden rage that surged up in Elizabeth made her tremble from head to toe. “ _These_ _people_? We have been sailing with _these people_ for months now, Will. They are our _family_!”

Everything seemed to go still on the deck as all paused to listen to the argument, Elizabeth’s raised voice carrying clear as a bell.

“Lower your voice,” demanded Will, noticing their audience with discomfort. He reached out to grasp her arm, intent on taking her below where perhaps they could speak more privately, but she wrenched away.

“No, I will not! You do not _command_ me. You are not my husband _yet._ ”

“Elizabeth, listen to me. Once we are married you will forget all about—”

“Perhaps I don’t _want_ to be married!” she exclaimed, the words escaping her mouth before she could consider them or staunch them.

Will’s expression took on the look of man who had been physically struck. Flatly he answered, “Indeed.”

“Will, I—” She reached out to him but this time Will stepped out of reach. “You don’t _understand_ ,” she tried to explain, her voice strained, her words quick as she desperately tried to patch this thing she’d broken. “You don’t know what it’s _like_ to be treated like property! A pretty thing to be passed from one owner to the next!”

A bitter laugh fell from William’s lips. “Property? Me? An orphan and an apprentice to a drunken blacksmith? I was little better than a _slave,_ Elizabeth, while you lived in that beautiful house up on the hill with everything you could possibly want at your fingertips.”

_Everything you could possibly want._

It wasn’t true in the least, was it?

For the thing Elizabeth had always wanted most was not pretty dresses or expensive baubles or servants to wait on her hand and foot, but _freedom._

She hardly recognized her voice when it came, it felt so _broken._ “I fear I am not the woman you think I am, Will. Perhaps I never was.”

Will shot a murderous glare up at Jack upon the quarterdeck, who like the rest of the crew was watching this altercation quietly. “He has _manipulated_ you, Elizabeth,” he growled, jabbing an accusing finger in the captain’s direction. “He has tricked you into thinking—”

“He has set me _free_ ,” she answered hotly, knowing it was true even as the words left her mouth. Quieter, she went on, “I’ve never been more free than I am here.”

Will made an incredulous face, his sharp brow creased in a magnificent frown. “On a _pirate_ ship? What do you think would happen to you here, if I were not aboard?”

“Nothing would happen. Jack wouldn’t allow it. And furthermore, I trust every man here. They are my family now, and I feel safe here. I feel safer here than on the streets of Port Royal, even.”

Will scoffed. “You feel safe _here_? With Jack Sparrow? Then you’re an even bigger fool than I thought.”

Before another word could be said on the matter Will pushed past her, fleeing below, and Elizabeth watched his retreat with a bewildered glare. She felt _sick,_ the adrenaline of their fight curdling in her veins. Her heart pounded in her chest, too fast perhaps. She felt light headed, and her scar on her side ached. She took a deep breath, covering her mouth with her hand, as if she could _hold it all in_. Despite this, her eyes began to water.

Her gaze was drawn up to the quarterdeck, where she expected to see Jack gloating over her fight with her fiancé— _former fiancé?—_ but he simply stood at the rail, his handsome visage pulled in a rather solemn expression. She too wished to flee, but would have rather died than encounter Will below decks now. She bolted for the forecastle, away from Will, away from Jack.

She had to think. And cry.

Not necessarily in that order.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for you comments and support!! You make my day!! <3<3<3


	12. Eleven Months

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Lizzy does some thinking, and Jack makes an offer.

# Chapter 12: Eleven Months

 

Late into the last watch, Elizabeth sat up in the crow’s nest, her red coat pulled tight around her. It was chilly at night with the breeze. There wasn’t much to see, really, on a moonless night, the dark sea undulating around them. But she desperately did not want to lay in her cot near Will, and so she had made a habit of trading shifts for the late watch.

She still did not know what she would say to the boy, should he manage to finally get her alone again. Elizabeth looked down at her hand, Will’s simple gold ring still encircling one of her long fingers. With a sigh she took it off, and put it in her pocket. She would put it back on when she climbed down.

Probably.

For the umpteenth time she traced those letters carved into the mainmast: _JS + ES._ Was it a promise? A wish? A prophecy? Her fingers shook.

“You’ve become quite the night owl, Lizzy,” said a voice to her left that made her jump, so entrenched was she in her thoughts.

“Jack.”

“In the flesh.” He hauled himself over the side of the bucket. “And, I brought _rum_.”

In spite of herself, Elizabeth smiled a little, accepting the bottle when he held it out in offer of the first pull. A conversation with Jack was another uncertain exchange she’d been putting off, and he’d given her space to gather her thoughts, bless him. She reckoned most men would have pounced on the opportunity of her nuptial unrest by now.

The liquid burned down her throat and warmed her belly, and with a grateful sigh she leaned back against the mast, handing back the bottle. Jack took a swig, and then restlessly drummed upon the neck of the glass bottle, as though there was something he wanted to say. Patiently, she waited, in no hurry.

It seemed that every time she opened her mouth, she only got herself deeper into trouble. Let someone else dig the hole for once.

“I just want you to know, love…” Jack started, then took another fortifying drink. He seemed almost _nervous,_ which was a marvel to behold in _Captain Jack Sparrow._ “That is, _well_ … You don’t _have_ to choose me. If you want to stay here indefinitely…you’re welcome to it. You don’t have to pick _me_ or _him_ —you can pick _you,_ if that’s what you really want.”

For some reason these words caused tears to prick at the corners of her eyes, and she released a shuddering sigh. Maybe he hated hearing it, but Jack really, truly, was a _good man._ Rather than spout ultimatums at her, Jack offered her freedom with open hands at every turn. There was no gift that moved Elizabeth more.

She said nothing, ruminating on all this, the silence stretching on, and after fidgeting for a few long moments Jack quickly added, “Though that is not to say I don’t _want_ you to pick me.”

He wanted it, wanted _her,_ with a growing desperation that was wholly _unsettling_ to the usually unflappable pirate captain. Who knew, after all the scrapes he’d been through, all the times he’d cheated death, that a slip of a girl would prove his undoing? He didn’t care. Let them say he’d gone soft in the head. If he had Lizzy, those other things he’d once found so tantamount, like _reputation_ , like _legend—_ they didn’t matter so much anymore.

The longer the silence drew out, the more Jack felt _certain_ he was hammering the nails into his own coffin with every word. Why couldn’t he ever keep his mouth shut when he _most_ needed to?

“Oh _Jack._ ”

She reached out, and for a heart stopping moment he thought she meant to take his hand. But she grasped the bottle and took another swig.

The knot constricting about his insides tightened a cinch, and silently he groaned.

Elizabeth did not look at him, but her grip on the bottle tightened as she searched for the courage to say her next words. “I thought this was all a joke in the beginning, you know. I thought you couldn’t possibly…” She released a shuddering sigh, a single tear slipping from the corner of her eye. “That is to say, if you _are_ serious, Jack, wouldn’t it be fitting to make a proper offer for me?”

Jack’s heart remained in his throat, and somehow simultaneously began pounding at a mile a minute.

Was this it?

_The opportune moment._

Somehow, he’d thought this day might not ever come.

Trying not to let his head and his heart get ahead of themselves, he cleared his throat, buying himself a moment to collect his thoughts. He fidgeted. Adjusted his legs, crossing and uncrossing them. More moments. More thoughts. Too many could get him into trouble, he knew. The truth grew cloudy, the more he let it simmer upon his tongue.

“That’s a tricky thing for a pirate you know, Lizzy,” he finally said, his voice low. “We’ve had a good run lately, but it won’t always be like this. It never is. And you’ve had a taste of how dangerous this life can be.”

A small smile curled the corners of her mouth for his honesty, and she wondered what that cost him to admit. “As much as I enjoy having a hold full of Spanish gold, Jack, that’s not exactly what I mean. If that kind of security was my concern, I would have chosen Norrington long ago.”

Jack laughed shakily at that. Only a girl who had grown up with everything could declare she didn’t mind the occasional bout of poverty. Despite everything that had happened to her, he reckoned she still had yet to really go hungry, and he hoped she never really would know what that was like. If he could help it, she wouldn’t, but fate could be fickle as she was cruel.

“There are a handful of women across the Caribbean who would vouch I have no business making any kind of promise to a woman. But the truth is I never felt for them anything near what I feel for you, darlin’. That’s the gospel. And that’s all I have to offer you, really. I have a ship, but ships can sink. I have some gold, but the shiny stuff spends quick.”

A thready breath escaped him, uncertain how he would manage to get out the next words that needed saying, when he didn’t know for certain… But he had to tell her, didn’t he? The time for parlour tricks had passed. This wasn’t a game anymore…perhaps it never really had been.

His hand clenched in a fist upon his thigh, and he almost did not recognize his voice as he said quickly and quietly, “I have a heart, mangled and black old thing that it is, but it’s yours if you want it, love.”

A sigh that was half sob suddenly escaped her, her hands flying to cover her mouth, and Jack’s stomach flipped. 

Was it so terrible as all that? But before he had the chance to think it over too much she asked shakily, “Will you hold me?”

Completely unsure if she sought comfort because she wanted him, or because she wanted him but knew she would choose Will anyway, he still lifted his arm in invitation so that she could snuggle into his side. But instead she climbed into his lap, gripping the lapel of his shirt and burying her nose in the bend of his neck, inhaling deeply of the scent of him. Sweat, sea salt, and spice.

He even _smelled_ like freedom.

The tears began to flow down her cheeks, and she could not stop them. She could not stop them, the way she’d been helpless to stop this _thing_ between she and Jack. Love? Was it love? Or was it _magic_ , a spell that gained power with every look, every word, every touch? Whatever it was, it had been _inevitable._

Utterly _inexorable_ , from the moment she’d set foot upon this ship, perhaps, or maybe since the moment he snatched her from a watery grave at the bottom of Port Royal’s harbor.

Despite his uncertainties, Jack held her close and let her cry against him, a protective hand upon the crown of her head, his other arm wrapped around her.

“ _I just don’t want to hurt Will_ ,” she choked out, and Jack wondered if that meant she _would_ choose him, or that she _couldn’t_ choose him?

Either way, he held her, because she’d asked him to.

Because he couldn’t have let go in that moment, had she asked him to.

Elizabeth could not find her voice again, completely overcome, and so she just clung to her pirate captain and wept quietly against his chest. Though Jack was no fan of feminine tears he held her close, a strange resignation settling over him like a buzzing whiteness between his ears.

If he’d broken something in Lizzy—either way, he had no doubt something new, something _stronger_ , would take its place. He remembered how it hurt to shed one’s youthful shell, to become the thing fate had intended for you all along.

If he was lucky, his name was written in the book beside hers, and would be for years to come. And if he was unlucky…

He usually _was_ unlucky, come to think of it, and it made him savor having her in his arms all the more. With every second that ticked past, he convinced himself further and further that it would be the last time he got the chance.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you SO much for reading, and your amazing comments! You've made writing this such an absolute delight, I really can't thank you all enough! <3<3<3 There will be one more chapter, and an epilogue. :)


	13. One Year

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> One year is up. Elizabeth makes a decision.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *After the show Black Sails everyone knows who they are now, so I should iterate that the Rackham and Bonny I picture here really are nothing like in the show. More like them in Matt Tomerlin’s pirate novels, which I do recommend if you are looking for an excellent pirate book!

# Chapter 13: One Year

 

Elizabeth promised herself that she would not cry again, and thus far she’d made good on it. She and Will seemed to perfect the art of avoiding each other in a relatively contained space over the next month. Jack too gave her space after his confession, though she felt his eyes upon her now and then.

They made port in Nassau, intending to sell off their pilfered goods to the fence who would see it passed on duty free in the colonies. The bullion from the _Inmaculada_ was parceled into shares, and the men were tearing at the bit to spend it before the _Pearl’s_ anchor even touched the water in the harbor.

Bag of gold heavy in her pocket, fully outfitted in her red coat, sword and pistol, kohl freshly drawn, Elizabeth went to seek out Jack in his cabin. He seemed surprised to see her there in the doorway after her soft knock, caught amidst the process of pulling on his worn brown coat. “’Lo, Lizzy. Looking forward to a bit of shore leave?” His tone was casually conversationally, hiding a sea of emotion that roiled underneath it all.

He’d bared his heart to her once already, and received tears in response. He would petition her no more, even if it killed him slowly inside to be so fucking cordial, as if...

 _Lady’s choice,_ he reminded himself. Even if he knew she would be miserable within a year of settling down with the whelp, it was _her choice._

“Quite. And you, Captain?”

“Always ready for a spot of adventure, love.” The words were right, and yet his delivery was uncharacteristically subdued.

He watched as she bit her lip, her hands clasped behind her back, clearly something else hovering on the tip of her tongue. There was a sadness in his midnight eyes as he regarded her, patiently waiting for the axe to fall. He was all too aware that one more day remained before the allotted _one year_ was up for them, and he fully expected her to inform him soon of her decision to quit the _Pearl_. He’d been steeling himself to hear this news since holding her in the crow’s nest, the front of his shirt soaked with the evidence of her sorrow.

It tugged at her heartstrings, the way he looked at her, and she found herself pulled into taking another step into the cabin by his gaze alone. “Might I…tag along with you?”

Jack froze, for in fact that was the _last_ request he expected to hear from her at this point. He straightened a little, those dark eyes looking her over carefully. “Of course.” He canted his head, a bit of the old gleam returning to those obsidian orbs she knew well, and something that had been tied up in tight knots inside her heart loosened a hair. “And what of young master whelp, my lady?”

Elizabeth shrugged. “I don’t think he wants to go ashore,” she answered broadly, not really indicating that she’d _asked_. “I think he may be allergic to fun.”

That won her a broad grin that glinted gold, the sight of which caused her heart to swell in her chest. _There he was, her pirate captain._ He’d behaved himself so well the past few months she’d hardly recognized him, and tonight…tonight she craved a bit of _mischief_. “Ah, a happy problem we rogues do not suffer, eh?”

She flashed her own grin, white teeth on full display. “ _Eh_ ,” she agreed cheekily, lifting her eyebrows in emphasis.

With a sweeping motion Jack donned his hat, tipping it at a rakish angle that made her heart race. “Well then, love. Let’s see what kind of trouble we can get ourselves into.” He offered her his arm in a gesture that was both gallant and comically formal, and gladly she took it, feeling as though she walked on a cloud with her arm in Jack’s and the whole evening ahead of them.

It took every ounce of self-control Jack possessed not to grab her up and kiss her, for the surge of excitement that suddenly galloped through his veins, making him _dizzy._ He did not know if this was her one last hoorah, or maybe, just _maybe_ , there was a tinker’s chance in Hades he still had a chance…

They took the next available longboat and went ashore. Jack lifted her out from the prow onto the beach so she wouldn’t get her boots wet, and she paused with his strong hands upon her waist, her fingers gripping the sleeves of his coat. She knew if she leaned in just a little, tilted her head _just so_ , he would kiss her, and some of this wild ache she felt in her breast would quiet, even if just for a few moments.

But the night was young, so somehow she untangled herself, taking a step back. “Thank you.”

He nodded, his eyes gleaming like polished jet, curious, contemplating. For the umpteenth time she wondered if he could see right _through_ her. The pair headed through the forest of tents on the beach for the town of Nassau. Falling in stride beside Captain Jack Sparrow, she felt _invincible,_ like nothing bad in the world could touch her.

They decided to begin their evening at The Painted Mermaid, and they were met at the door by a lawless party already in full swing, the din of the crowd so boisterous it was almost tangible.

Elizabeth grinned wide, gleefully anticipating some fun.

A redheaded woman approached as they made their way to an empty table, planting herself firmly in Lizzy’s path. She was not as tall as Lizzy, but she carried herself in a way that forewarned of trouble if one was not careful. “I recognize that coat,” said the woman in a lilting Irish brogue, and Elizabeth raised an eyebrow, wondering if she was about to get in a swordfight with Anne Bonny over her favorite garment.

A long pregnant moment passed in which the two women sized each other up, hands on the hilts of their cutlasses. Elizabeth relished the surge of adrenaline in her veins, the way the rest of the world around them seemed to vanish as she waited to see if Bonny would make a move. Jack seemed apprehensive, ready to leap in if things should go the wrong way with this unpredictable fire-haired pirate lass.

“But it looks better on _you_!” Bonny finally brayed, her forbidding countenance transforming with a wide and pretty smile. She clapped Jack on shoulder. “Have you worried, Sparrow? Ha! Come sit with us, bring your lady friend. Did you hear about Cutler Beckett? We’re celebrating tonight!”

After receiving a look of approval Jack followed, falling down in an empty chair, Elizabeth following suit. Jack Rackham, now dressed in a bright peacock blue coat, extended a hand in Sparrow’s direction and they shook in greeting. Rackham took one look at Lizzy and grinned broadly. “Nice duds, darlin’.”

Amused that he was a good sport about it all, and possessing the secret knowledge that his coat was now _her_ coat because Jack had _cheated_ in that game of cards, Elizabeth returned his smile. “Why thank you. It came from a pirate with exceptional taste in fashion.”

“You’re too kind, sweetheart!”

Anne scoffed, elbowing Rackham in the ribs. “She clearly means Sparrow.”

Everyone joined in a laugh, rum flowed, and the gossip began to fly. “What’s this about Cutler Beckett?” asked Jack slyly, looking over his flagon of grog to Rackham and Bonny.

“Sunk!” exclaimed Rackham. “His whole flotilla! Only a few survivors, but Beckett weren’t one of them! Some mysterious ship armed to the teeth that came out of  nowhere, apparently, no one knows if she were French, Spanish, Pirate—”

“Or _Dutch_?” interjected Lizzy, her eyes all for Jack Sparrow.

“Aye!” agreed Rackham. “Either way, the sea belongs to the Brethren again. Let’s have a toast, eh? Where we will, we’ll roam!”

The occupants of the table raised their flagons with a hearty hurrah and drank deeply. Elizabeth’s hand found Jack’s upon the table, squeezing his fingers. He couldn’t help but notice she was not wearing Will’s gold ring. “I didn’t realize you’d sicced Jones on Beckett,” she murmured under her breath.

“I may have whispered the suggestion in his ear…if you could call it that. Do squids have ears?” She chuckled quietly, and Jack laced their fingers together more tightly. “You’re free, you know,” said Jack. “Without _Lord_ Beckett’s influence, I doubt your warrants still carry much weight. Who’s left to care?”

Elizabeth scooted closer in answer. “Who indeed? And I thought I made a rather good pirate, Jack?”

The corner of his mouth turned up in a half smile, and damn him if he didn’t allow himself to hope _just a little._ Tricky wench was an even better thief than him; she stole his _breath_ away. “The _best_ I’ve seen, Lizzy darlin’.”

She flooded with warmth from the top of her head to the tips of her toes under that obsidian gaze. “Good. Then it would be a shame to quit now,” she quipped, and brazenly she scooted even closer, placing his arm around her shoulders.

Jack’s heart pounded in his chest as though he’d just run a mile, and he ducked to whisper in her ear, “What are you up to, Lizzy?”

She turned her face to his, close enough that their noses brushed. Close enough to _kiss._ The rum had started to settle in, warming her insides, making the world beautiful and bright and soft-edged, and yet—so very _clear._ And with Jack _so close_ —some door unlocked inside her, allowing the emotions she felt for Jack Sparrow out to play in all their merry glory, without any sense of urgency to tame them. Perhaps this mad reeling warmth that burned inside had nothing to do with rum? If she felt invincible before— _well_. Dangerous stuff, was the libation of the cane, and something else she dared not name just yet, a four letter word that began with L.

Threads of the fiddle and the mandola carried over the din, a song that Elizabeth liked very much, _Hog Eyed Man._

“Will you dance with me, Jack?”

“Anytime, anywhere. Lead the way, love.”

With his hand firmly ensconced in hers, she pulled him to the dance floor where others were whirling madly to the spritely jig. Jack spun her like a dervish, this way and that about the floor, the sawdust flying beneath their quickly moving feet. His hands were strong and sure, leading her in turns and close figure eight maneuvers she’d never encountered on any dancefloor in her old life. Grinning like madmen, they whirled two and fro, gaining such momentum that they were hardly able to stop when the playing ceased and the musicians took a break.

Laughing, gasping for breath, Elizabeth leaned against Jack’s chest. He was so solid beneath her, and his arms held her close as the world slowly stopped spinning. In the end the focus of her vision narrowed upon him, rendering her utterly unable to look away. His dark eyes held a question; a question he’d been asking her all night. _What are you up to, Lizzy?_

She didn’t entirely know the specifics, but not a thing in the world could have stopped her from standing on tiptoe and pressing her lips to his. _God, how she loved this man._ She loved him, and she _wanted_ him, with every fibre of her being. Jack moaned as her lips found his, held her closer, his hand slipping into her hair at the nape of her neck.

“ _Elizabeth_ …” His voice came ragged, _raw_ , full of need that moved her to the depths of her soul. She pressed her forehead to his, savoring this shining moment in which the world seemed so _perfect._ Her fists gripped the lapels of his coat, and had his arms not been so securely wrapped around her she felt certain she would have fallen.

“ _Jack_ …” she whispered. “ _Is there a place we can go, to be alone?_ ”

He released a shuddering breath, his grip flexing in her hair. “Do you mean that?”

She smiled, nodded, and answered breathily with one word that could change her future forever: “ _Yes_.”

The pirate groaned, stealing another lingering kiss. He said the first locale that came to mind. “The Pearl?”

“No!” She answered quickly, too quickly perhaps, and laughed at herself shakily. “No, I don’t want…” She made a keening sound, hiding her face against his neck. “Can we stay _here_ tonight? On the island?”

Jack drew back to regard her, those dark eyes searching hers, his expression growing strangely _solemn_.

 _Of course she doesn’t want to get caught,_ he thought to himself. _That’s what she’s up to._ A strange numb settled over Jack, spreading through his limbs like ice water. Well, if he was to be her last hurrah before settling down…so be it. If it was all he would ever have of her, he would take it, even if the memory later just might eat him alive.

In the end he nodded, helpless against any other answer, no matter her motives, and led her off the dancefloor, leaving her by the foot of the stairs as he went to the bar. He said a few words with the keep and flipped him a coin. In return he received a key, and he returned to Lizzy with the iron object spinning lazily upon one of his clever fingers.

Elizabeth sensed this change in him, like storm clouds suddenly hanging over head. It wasn’t quite the reception she’d expected, and as they made their way up the stairs she laced her fingers with his. He squeezed her hand hard, but for some reason would not look at her in that moment.

Even still, excitement clamored in her veins. Hoping to thaw this odd mood of Jack’s, she leaned into him, savoring the strength in his arm and the line of his lean body against hers. In the end he couldn’t help but loop an arm about her narrow waist, holding her close against him. At the top of the stairs the corridor was long and shadowed, a single lantern hanging on a hook lighting the way.

Outside their door Jack paused, holding up the simple iron key. “Sure about this, love?” he asked. “‘Cause you’ve had a bit to drink, and if you regret this in the morning, even if you are planning on marrying the whelp…I think it would _kill_ me.”

She raised her eyebrows, shock written across her fine features. “ _Marry the whelp?_ Jack, have you gone daft? I’ve chosen _you_!”

Shock registered upon the pirate captain’s features, his jaw hanging wide. She’d finally done it. At long last, she’d pole-axed Jack Sparrow, rendered him well and truly speechless.

Suddenly she understood his shadowed mood, and quickly she thought back on their evening, on what she _possibly_ could have said to make him think she intended to _lie_ with him then _marry_ Will Turner? Then she remembered the way he’d looked at her after she objected to the _Pearl_ , as though she’d signed his own death warrant.

“Oh darling,” she said, placing her hand over his heart. “I only didn’t want to go back to the _Pearl_ because I don’t want to be interrupted, _for_ _once_. I’ll tell him tomorrow, I swear, but tonight, I just want—”

Suddenly he grabbed her up, Jack’s mouth crashing down upon hers, his strong arms lifting her until she barely stood on tiptoe as he ravished her lips with his. He then pinned her against the door, her breath escaping her in a _whoosh_ as the delicious weight of his lean sailor’s body pressed into her.

For all his confident bluster, in that moment he realized he _never_ really thought she would chose _him_. Not _really_. Amuse herself with a snog [or several], perhaps a bit of naughty petting that would sear her memory on his soul, or even a little tupping to think back on when she was up to her elbows in babies, dirty nappies, and dishes that needed washing—but _choose him_?

The surge of triumph he felt was so heady that he shook all over.

Jack _growled,_ and she veritably melted inside as he somehow simultaneously kissed her and fumbled to unlock the damn door. “Lizzy, you sweet little minx,” he ground out into the curve of her throat, his teeth grazing her shoulder as he pulled her inside the now open door. “I thought…I was so _fucking_ certain…”

He couldn’t bring himself to say it now. _He’d thought he would lose her._ Instead he finished his sentence with another primal sound, kicking the door closed behind them as he _devoured_ her mouth, his strong hands kneading into her sides.

She laughed as he ducked to kiss her neck, a joyful unfettered sound that surely carried all the way down the hall, but she didn’t care. “Oh Jack,” she sighed, feeling herself turning to putty beneath the onslaught of his kisses. She _ached_ for him, in her heart, and _lower_ , the cradle of her hips where he’d touched her so brazenly that one beautiful day.

“I think I knew all along, deep down,” she whispered into his ear. “That in the end, it would be you. It could only be _you_ , Jack. _I love you_. I’m sorry, I’m so sorry I made you wait!”

Jack paid her an incredulous look, the corner of his mouth curled up in a smirk, feeling confident enough to tease her once more. “No you’re not.”

She shrugged a little, lifting a hand to trace his fine features. The curve of his brow and straight line of his nose, the plump swell of his lower lip and the rough line of his bearded jaw. He closed his eyes, savoring her gentle touch. In the end she buried her hands in the dark hair at the nape of his neck. “Maybe a _little,_ ” she teased, craning her neck for another kiss. “Perhaps you’ll let me make it up to you?”

Jack made a sound deep in his throat that sent gooseflesh marching down her spine. “A dangerous offer, love. We could be here for weeks.” She laughed lightly, and her mirth faded into a moan as his clever fingers began tugging at the knot of her sash, his nose and lips nuzzling aside the collar of her shirt.

“That sounds like a proper honeymoon, Jack,” she teased, winning a weighted look from her pirate captain.

“I did propose mar-i-age, if you recall.”

“Hmm, what a fool I was not to take you seriously.”

Realizing he was working out of order, Jack withdrew her pistol and dagger, setting them on a rickety side table, and then lifted the leather baldric holding her sword over her head. “Tis not too late,” he grumbled, sliding the by now _infamous_ red coat from her shoulders, draping it over a chair. After divesting himself of his own weapons he quickly tossed his hat and coat in the same direction with considerably less care. “Though I hope you don’t feel the need to find a parson at this _very_ moment.”

Elizabeth chuckled and sighed deeply as he pressed her against the door again, her head knocking upon the wood behind her with abandon. She knew no pain, only the purest brightest _joy._ “I cannot say that is my most _urgent_ desire,” she admitted, regarding him up and down hungrily. She tried to make some headway of her own on divesting him of his regalia but he caught her wrists, pinning them on the door above her head with one large hand.

It was _ridiculously_ arousing to be held under his power. She trusted him with _everything_ , she realized. Her life. Her body.

_Her heart._

She felt dizzy with elation, and the heat in his eyes could have started a fire in their cozy little room. “And what _is_ your desire, Lizzy girl?” he asked huskily, working upon her sash once more. “You can have anything you want, you know.” She shivered as he drew it away, the linen sliding against her hips.

Just the thought was enough to make her womb clench with want, a heated sigh rushing past her lips. A shaky laugh escaped her as cheekily she admitted, “I want _everything,_ Jack.”

He smiled against her skin, and nipped her in reward. “ _Pirate_. I meant something a tad more _specific._ Anything in _particular_ you want to try?”

Next his fingers began working the long line of buttons of her tunic, and soon they were undone.

“ _Mmm_.” His hands next wandered beneath the loose tails of her shirt, landing upon her bare skin, and she could hardly remember her own _name_. Lightly his fingers ghosted up her sides, causing her to squirm.

“Eh, Lizzy?” he prompted, finding the tail of the linen wrappings which bound her breasts. One tug and they began to unravel, falling down about her waist. Patiently he unwound her, his eyes boring into her all the while. “How many yards of this is really necessary?” he grumbled, glancing down at the length of cloth on the floor.

“About four,” she answered cheekily, hoping she was off the hook. Jack touching her in any way he pleased was enough, _more_ than enough, for an inexperienced young thing like her. How could she ask for what she didn’t know? But then like the spark igniting a piece of slow match, one thing did float up from her memory. “I believe you mentioned at one point something about your _trickster’s tongue_?” she asked tentatively.

Jack’s answering smile was all gold and wicked promise. “Oh, that _is_ an excellent place to start,” he agreed, feeling rather drunk himself on _her._ He kissed her deeply, the tongue in question leaving no corner of her mouth unclaimed, his thumb circling one pebble-hard nipple until she squirmed, pressing her thighs together in an attempt to relieve some of the ache he inspired in her loins. Knowing all too well, Jack insinuated one muscled thigh between her legs, letting her writhe upon him like a complete and _total_ wanton.

It helped a little, but she needed _more_ , and he knew it.

“ _God_ you are beautiful, Lizzy,” he growled, ducking to take her other nipple in his mouth through her shirt, his teeth nipping lightly, his tongue flicking back and forth in a maddening rhythm that strung her tighter than any corset ever managed. Slowly he pulled at the laces of her breeches, until they hung loose about her hips.

“ _Jack,”_ she sighed, _pleaded._ “ _I need_ …”

After stealing one last kiss he took mercy on her, slowly sinking to his knees before her. It was insanely arousing to see him at her feet, intending to see to her pleasure. He paid her a lascivious smile, as though he read her thoughts all too well. “Like me down here, do you?” She bit her lip, daring to nod slightly. His grin only widened, and he admitted, “I like it too.”

Deft as a trained valet, he divested her of her boots one by one, pausing to caress the curves of her calves, the sensitive skin behind her knees, and tracing the arches of her feet in a way that made her moan. She loved the way he touched her, with careful and curious attention, and yet a part of her was very close to _begging_ him to get on with it.

His fingers hooked in her waistband, and he paused, those dark eyes rolling up to meet hers. He met no protest, and slowly he began to draw her breeches down her slender hips. She held her breath as she watched his expression, and the _hunger_ upon his visage as he bared her to his sight inspired the most acute ache between her legs. “And a pretty little quim to match the rest,” he sighed, caressing the downy curls between her legs. “God, Lizzy, is there any part of you that does _not_ look utterly delectable?”

She had no answer to that, of course, and could not have found her voice had she tried. Soon he was kissing her hip, her navel, and _lower_ , and the only sounds she could make were perfectly _animal._ His dexterous tongue between her folds, teasing her clit with maddening strokes, was easily the most exquisite sensation she’d _ever_ known. Her knees trembled, threatening to buckle. “ _Oh God, Jack_ —that’s _so_ —I’m going to _fall_.”

Elizabeth felt him smile with his mouth upon the most _intimate_ part of her body, and he lifted one of her thighs to rest upon his shoulder, strong hands steadying her balance upon her hips. “I won’t let you fall, darlin’.” After that there was no mercy, and she scrabbled for purchase against the door, finding a hook over her head to hold on to for dear life as Jack played her like a virtuoso. The delicious tension in her body pulled tighter and tighter, to the point where this wonderful sensation was somehow almost _painful._ Jack brought her to the edge of her release again and again, pausing at the most infuriating moment so that her pleasure retreated like a wave from the shore.

“ _You’re trying to kill me,_ ” she panted.

“Just a little taste of your own medicine,” he teased, reaching up to press his thumb just inside her weeping channel. Her hips moved of their own volition, wanting more, wanting him _deeper._ But Jack held back with expert timing, keeping her in limbo. “Try living like this for nigh on a _year._ The thing you want _most_ in the _world_ right in front of you, yet _just_ out of reach.”

She looked down upon him, knowing her desperation must be written all across her face. _“You_ are the thing I want most in the world,” she told him, and Jack _groaned_ , dizzy with the knowledge that this was _real,_ that she was _his._ He returned to his task with a vengeance, licking her hungrily _exactly_ where she needed him, a second finger slipping inside her body, and she came with a violence that might have frightened her had she any ability left to use the higher functions of her brain. Pleasure surged and pulsed in her loins, a cry escaping her that could have been mistaken for murder from the other side of the door.

She did collapse in the end, her legs giving out completely beneath her, but Jack awaited her with open arms and carried her easily to the bed. “Siren,” he growled between kisses. “Goddess of the sea foam. You _are_ the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen.”

Through a warm haze overlaying her vision she curled her languid limbs on the bed, savoring the afterglow and watched him undress himself. He did not rush, letting her enjoy it, his eyes never leaving hers. She found herself biting her lip as he pulled his shirt over his head, his wiry body banded with muscle, marked with a myriad of tattoos and scars. A small sigh escaped her lips, and the corner of that wickedly wonderful mouth curled. “Like what you see, love?”

“You’re beautiful, Jack.”

He laughed. “A scarred old tar like me? Not sure _beautiful_ is the word.”

“You _are_.” She found the strength to sit up, scooting to the edge of the bed. His hands paused at the laces of his breeches when she crooked one long finger at him, bidding him closer. He went, of course, kicking off his boots along the way, as helpless as though she really was a mermaid drawing him in with a sweet and fatal song. Her palm grazed the bulge at the front of his breeches and he drew in a hissing breath through his teeth.

“ _Lizzy…”_

“Jack?” She finished pulling free the ties, mesmerized by the line of dark hair that led south along his flat belly. Elizabeth kissed his hip, and dipped her tongue into the v that divided his leg and his torso, winning a quiet curse that made her smile. Again that intoxicating sense of power filled her, but it was more than that. She felt simultaneously filled with the desire to _take,_ and the desire to _give._ A small tug made his nethermost garment pool into a pile at his feet, and she could not help but gasp for the glory of the sight before her.

His thighs were lean and muscular, covered with crisp black hairs. She reached out to trace the chiseled line of his quadriceps, and he quivered beneath her inquisitive touch. Finally she allowed her gaze to rise higher. His manhood stood at proud attention, and she could not stop herself from reaching for him, wrapping her fingers lightly around his shaft. It seemed impossible that an appendage could be so simultaneously _hard_ yet also so velvety soft on the outside. Curiously she traced the ridge of the edges of the glans of his penis, and a low strangled sound escaped Jack, his chest rising and falling with rapid breath. Wickedly she wondered if her mouth could have the same effect as his, and she dared to flick her tongue along the smooth skin of his swollen head.

“ _Fuck_.”

She smiled, glancing up to regard him, finding her captain with his eyes closed and head thrown back. Taking this as encouragement, she took him into her mouth, sucking lightly, running her tongue along the smooth underside of his cock. He moaned, his fingers delving into the golden mass of her loosened hair. “I won’t last long if you keep this up, love,” he warned her in a gravelly voice, yet unable to stop her as she experimented with taking more of him into her mouth. She could not fit him completely inside, and vaguely she wondered how she would manage with the _other_ orifice of her body. Her nails gently grazed the soft weight of his bollocks, earning another groan.

Elizabeth withdrew, wiping a bit of saliva from the corner of her mouth. “Well we can’t have that,” she deadpanned. “If I have to spend one more night a virgin I think I might _die_ of disappointment.”

Chuckling shakily, Jack bent down to capture her lips with his, kissing her deeply. She could taste something earthy upon his lips, and she realized it was _her._ The thought did not deter her in the least, and she felt that telltale heat begin to pool between her hips once more. As he kissed her his hands fisted in the tails of her shirt, beginning to draw it up over her head. Immediately she blanched, her hands flying to cover his. “Wait!”

“What’s wrong, love?”

A long pause drew out before she finally answered, “…My scar…it’s _ugly_.”

He knelt beside the bed again, canting his head to regard her. “Nonsense.”

“It _is,_ ” she insisted. She had inspected it in the mirror not too long ago, a jagged purple line that spread from her hip all the way up to just under her breast.

“I am covered in scars head to toe. You said you find me beautiful?”

“I do.”

“Then I can’t do the same for you?”

She worried her lip. “But you’re a man.”

Jack raised his eyebrow, and she could see by the gleam in his eye that he was rather amused by this. “Aye, last I checked. Last _you_ checked, in fact.” His smile showed a hint of gold, and gently he caressed her cheek. “You’re beautiful, Lizzy. _And_ you’re a pirate. Scars are proof that you survived, eh? Ain’t no shame in ‘em.”

She sighed, and he began to hopefully inch the hem of her shirt up again. “May I?”

Slowly she nodded, and he finished undressing her with a flourish, pulling the shirt over her head. Elizabeth closed her eyes, as though waiting for an axe to fall. There was only silence. Finally she opened one eye, to find Jack staring at her with an expression of rapture. “Tis not fair, you know, for one woman to possess this much beauty. I have a feeling I’ll never win an argument again.”

She laughed a little in spite of herself. “Providing we argue while I am unclothed?”

“Aye, tis the best way I can think of to do it.” His smile was _pure_ insouciance.

She rolled her eyes, but her expression softened. “You are sweet, Jack.”

He groaned, his eyes travelling up and down her svelte form. “I am _in pain._ Come now, let us see this scar.” With sure hands he guided her onto her side, so that he may have an unobstructed view. She shuddered as his nimble fingers gently traced the curve of her waist, and then the curving sweep of her freshly healed wound.

He did this silently, and unable to see his face, she fidgeted, finally unable to stand it. She turned to behold his expression, finding not the disgust that she feared, but an uncharacteristic solemnity as he looked upon the purple _circatrice_. “You are not allowed to do this again, love,” he grumbled, pressing his lips to her skin at the base of the scar. “Not. For. Me.” He traced her scar with wet kisses between the words, and with each one she felt herself soften a little more beneath him.

“I would,” she told him bluntly, turning onto her back so that she might see him better. “For I value your life more than my own.”

He growled in response to that, finally climbing onto the bed to join her. “Captain’s orders, love. Not allowed.”

She laughed lightly at his frustration, reaching up to cradle his face in her hands as he stood on all fours above her. “Hmm. We’ll see, darling.” What she really meant was _too bad,_ but she didn’t want to argue. There were other things she wanted to do with this night, and she ran her hands over Jack’s bare chest, down his trim waist, and tugged at his torso, urging him down. She _craved_ his bare skin and the weight of his body upon hers, and it did not take much persuasion to get her way. The way their bodies fit together, his ridges and her curves, felt like pure _magic._

He kissed her swollen lips, her jaw and the long line of her neck, and lower, languidly teasing one nipple with his tongue. His hips rocked against hers, his cock sliding torturously against her wet slit. Impatiently she undulated against him, a small sound escaping her as she felt his tip settle at _just_ the right spot between her legs. “ _Please_.”

Completely run through his surprisingly vast stores of self-control, Jack finally allowed himself to slide into her body, moaning in the bend of her neck as he pressed himself into that tight hot space between her legs. “ _Oh my love_ ,” he rasped in her ear, working himself inside. _“Perfect. You are so bloody perfect.”_

Her fingers curled like claws in his back; it hurt, and yet somehow she still wanted it, _needed_ it, needed _him._ Her body ached like a craven empty thing when she was without him; _this_ was how they were meant to be together. This was Perfection. She braced herself with her thighs locked around his hips.

“It won’t always be like this,” he promised. “I’m sorry, I never want to hurt you.”

“It’s alright,” she whispered through gritted teeth, burying her face in the bend of his neck. “I’m fine. Please don’t stop? I _need_ you. _I love you._ ”

He held her close with his arms wrapped around her shoulders and kissed her, their bodies slowly finding a rhythm together. Eventually most of the fiery pain faded, Elizabeth found, leaving a dull ache that was slowly being overcome by something decidedly more pleasant, building like a volcano in her loins.

“ _I want you to come for me, Lizzy_ ,” Jack sighed in her ear. “ _I want to feel it with my cock buried in your sweet little quim._ ” She made a small sound of abandon, surprised by the physical effect of his filthy words whispered so sweetly in her ear. Experimenting with the angle, led by instinct older than time, she tilted her hips, bringing him even closer. He knew he could not last this exquisite torture much longer.

“Oh Jack, _right there,”_ she pleaded, and he slowed his pace, took her deeper, using his pelvis to touch her as he’d used his hands and his tongue before. His hand fisted in her hair, pulling a little as he sucked at the skin at the base of her neck, then lower, catching one nipple between his lips. A bolt of pleasure shot through her, pushed her over that shining edge, and with a cry she felt as though she shattered into a thousand pieces, and yet still somehow remained perfectly whole with Jack inside her. He pinned her to the mattress with the power of his own release, shuddering against her, her name on his lips then his teeth in her skin. There may have been more foul words, his very own impish brand of love poetry—she wasn’t sure. She was _floating,_ the hot Caribbean night pressing in upon them. She clutched at his wiry body collapsed upon hers as slowly reality returned, her heartbeat a timpani roll in her ears.

Gasping for breath, Jack kissed her and rolled to the side, drawing her into his arms. A slow grin spread on his lips as he looked down at her, and he pressed a kiss to the crown of her head. “We will find an apothecary in the morning, I promise,” he said, his voice heavy with satisfaction as he caressed her hair.

“An apothecary?” She could not quite manage to process what he meant, her brain fogged by the golden haze of their lovemaking.

“Unless you want to hear the pitter patter of little feet on the decks of the Pearl?”

“Oh!” She had not given it a second thought, she’d been so entranced by Jack’s embrace, so caught up in the fires her desire for him. Had he asked her two moments ago she would have claimed not to care in the least if he got her with child so long as he was _inside_ her, but now, she answered tentatively, “Perhaps not just yet?”

He released a long breath. “Hoped you would say that.”

She sat up a little to regard him down her nose. “And if I hadn’t?”

Jack simply shrugged with a sideways smile, and she found she didn’t have the energy to pursue the issue further. Wrapped up in Jack’s arms, her head upon his chest, the soothing rhythm of his heartbeat thumping steadily in her ear, all seemed right in the world. Sleep tugged at the edges of her consciousness, and soon claimed her.

She dreamed of birds flying free on the wind.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here we are. Practically the end. XD Just an epilogue to go. I cannot thank you all ENOUGH who have read along, followed on this journey, and of course left your kind words of encouragement!!! Your support means the world to me, thank you!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!


	14. Epilogue

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jack & Elizabeth return to the Pearl, and all the rest.

# Epilogue

 

Sometimes, Elizabeth looked down at a particular gouge in the wood of Jack’s desk, and remembered a fateful day. She would think back on it when she was charting a course for their intrepid vessel, or when sharing a meal with her pirate captain, or even sometimes when said captain bent her over said desk like a two-bit trollop, and she loved every depraved moment of it, his hands rough on her skin and words of love hissed with sweet desperation in her ear.

She would think back on the first morning she woke in Jack Sparrow’s arms in their room at the Painted Mermaid, and the tenderness with which he’d made love to her for the second time ever. She would recall a lazy morning filled with silly grins, soft kisses, and slow hands mapping courses across newly discovered territory, his body and hers conjuring wonders, _together_. Afterwards they had breakfasted downstairs, and then hit the streets of Nassau to find the aforementioned apothecary, where they obtained a hefty supply of preventative tea. Clearly, they were going to need it.

The pitter patter of little feet would have to wait.

There were too many adventures to be had.

Too many prizes to take, treasures to find, and deaths to be defied.

Hand in hand, Elizabeth and Jack had made their way back to the _Pearl_ , hardly noticing the worried glances of the crew as they climbed aboard, and made haste for Jack’s cabin, a sudden and unyielding need come upon them. Tripping through the door, giggling like fools, they were interrupted mid-kiss, Jack’s coat shoved half down his shoulders, by the unsettling sight of an upturned great cabin. All Jack’s possessions lay scattered on the ground. Books open on their spines. Precious curiosities shattered on the hard oaken deck.

That weathered antique chest lay wide open at Will Turner’s feet, the blacksmith turned pirate sitting in Jack’s carved wood throne of a chair. He’d clasped a dagger in his right hand, and the Heart of Davy Jones lay bare upon the center of the table like a ghastly cut of meat that convulsed occasionally with life, or something vaguely like it.

“So nice of you to finally return,” the blacksmith turned pirate deadpanned, his accusing gaze casting between them. Dark circles under his eyes bespoke that he’d been up awaiting their homecoming all night.

“Will—”

The boy held up a hand, staving off whatever excuses he reckoned Elizabeth would concoct. He would never know she meant to inform him of her choice, firmly, with as little fanfare or flowery embellishment as was possible. They’d taken enough pieces out of each other as it was. It was time to end it once and for all. It would be best for the both of them.

“If there’s one thing I’ve learned in this past year,” said Will sadly, “It’s that if you want something done right, the only man you can depend on to do it is yourself.”

“Son,” had said Jack cautiously, holding up his be-ringed hands. “Don’t do anything stupid. I really don’t think you understand what you’re doing here.”

“Oh, I understand perfectly well, Jack. I don’t trust you, and I don’t trust Jones, but I will see my father freed.” He’d looked to Elizabeth, all the sorrow in the world in those large brown eyes. “I wish you well, Miss Swann.”

She would never forget the sound of that dagger piercing that damned mass of barnacled flesh, the blade plunged so hard that it stuck in the desk.

The boy chose his fate freely, as she chose hers.

Despite the shock of watching the crew of the _Dutchman_ emerging from the sea, claiming Will Turner’s body and disappearing into the depths, Elizabeth could not have been happier in the following weeks, then months, then years. She spent her days at Jack Sparrow’s side and her nights in his bed. Beckett was gone, and the hunting was good.

Yo ho, a pirate’s life was sweet indeed.

However, not for James Norrington. Not long after Elizabeth and Jack finally settled he made the decision to depart at the next port. Elizabeth had bade him a comrade’s goodbye at the top of the gangplank, sorry to see him go but understanding all too well. It surely galled the former Commodore to see Jack and Elizabeth snogging at any given moment on deck, and the sounds of passion from the Captain’s cabin surely travelled all too well throughout the ship. There was only so much a man could take, and she was in good hands now, respectively.

“Tell him he’d best take care of you, or I _will_ finally have his neck in a noose,” had said James with a baleful glance up at the quarterdeck, where Jack watched them like a hawk in the most casual way he could muster, pretending to be inspecting a knot in the railing with intense interest.

Elizabeth had laughed and smiled, pressing James’ hand. “I will.” James had nodded and turned to go, knowing if he did not do it now he never would, though at the last moment he turned on his heel and grabbed Elizabeth up, stealing a kiss that for a moment _may_ have made her legs weak—luckily it was over before it had barely even begun. The crew burst into laughter as James beat a hasty retreat on long legs down the gangplank. Elizabeth stared after him dumbfounded, fingers upon her swollen lips.

“I knew we’d make a pirate out of you in the end, mate!” Jack barked after the retreating former Commodore, to which James flashed a rather obscene gesture with his raised right hand. Jack pretended to be amused, but later in his cabin he made it all too clear, repeatedly, to whom Elizabeth belonged.

She relished every minute of it, somehow pleased that Jack felt so possessive of her. With Will it had grated, constricted, _smothered,_ but with Jack…it was simply the truth. She belonged to him body and soul. He was her everything, her heart, her _home._ By the end of the night she made certain he felt sufficiently reassured of all this and more.

Sometimes, when Jack stayed too long on deck, she knew she could find him at the helm of the _Pearl_ , his other love. At times, she fancied she did compete with a _ship_ for his attention, but then…the _Pearl_ was a very special lady.

“Have you got me that horizon yet?” she would tease, slipping her arms around him from behind, nipping his ear. The dying light of the sunset would glint upon the steely diamonds of her skull-shaped ring, a bauble exchanged with a whispered promise that meant far more to her than formulaic words exchanged in a dreary church before a self-proclaimed man of God, and she would kiss him sweetly to make up for her use of teeth.

“Perhaps tomorrow, love,” he would say, gold glinting in his smile, his hand covering hers above his heart. He always said that. “‘Spose you’ll have to stick around one more day.”

“Gladly, Captain Sparrow. Gladly.”

# The End

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ahhhhhh, I can't believe after all this time, this is the end!! What a ride! Thank you SO much to Mariel for the prompt that gave birth to this, to Katie for being generally AWESOME and the voice that whispers in my ear "you need to finish this", and to all of you who have followed along and left such sweet and encouraging comments!!!!! Kruemmel, Glasscannon, WixyPagan, Maidenaddict, Phoebe, Sarah, Gryphae, DrAphra, Minkrose, and so many more, I really can't thank you enough, OR convey properly with words what your support means to me!!! <3<3<3<3 x infinity!

**Author's Note:**

> Your comments are always so very appreciated, dear readers! Hope you enjoyed! :D


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